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Rev.  John  Watsox,  M.A. 
(Ian  Maclaren.) 


D.D. 


A 


r 


Beside  the 

Bonnie 
Briar  Bush 


'   IAN 
MACLAREN 


l-iMCALDVELL 

P  COMPANY  m 
NE\VyORK 


3 


CONTENTS. 


].  DOMSIE. 

1.  A  Lad  'o  Pairts      .  .  .  •         li 

2.  How  WE  CARRIED  THE  NEWS  TO  WHINNIE 

KNOWE,        .  .  ...  24 

3.  In  Marget's  Garden,       ...         32 

4.  A  Scholar's  Funeral,     ...         42 

Ix     A  HIGHLAND  MYSTIC. 

1.  What  Eye  hath  not  seen,         .  •         55 

2.  Against  Principalities  and  Powers,  .         66 

UL    HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON.    ...         79 

IV.  THE    TRANSFORMATION    OF    LACH- 
LAN   CAMPBELL. 

1.  A  Grand  Inquisitor,  •  •  •         95 

2.  His  Bitter  Shame,  ,  .  .110 

3.  Like  as  a  Father,  .  •  •        126 

4.  As  a  Little  Child,  .  .  139 

V.   THE    CUNNING    SPEECH    OF    DRUM- 

TOCHTY, IS5 

7 


8  CONTENl'S, 

tAGM 

VI.  A  WISE  WOMAN 

\.  Our  Sermon  Taster,       .           .  .173 

3.  The  Collapse  of  Mrs.  Macfadyen,  .       185 

VII.  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

i.  A  General  Practitioner,          .  .        199 

2.  Through  the  Flood,        .           .  .        214 

3.  A  Fight  with  Death,      .           .  .       229 

4.  The  Doctor's  Last  Journey.     .  .       244 


to  MY  WIFB 


"  There  grows  a  bonnie  brier  bush  in  our  kail-yard, 
And  white  are  the  blossoms  on't  in  our  kail-yard/* 


A  LAD  O'  PAIRTS. 

The  Revolution  reached  our  parish  years  ago, 
and  Drumtochty  has  a  School  Board,  with  a  chair- 
man and  a  clerk,  besides  a  treasurer  and  an  officer. 
Young  Hillocks,  who  had  two  years  in  a  lawyer's 
office,  is  clerk,  and  summons  meetings  by  post, 
although  he  sees  every  member  at  the  market  or 
the  kirk.  Minutes  are  read  with  much  solemnity^ 
and  motions  to  expend  ten  shillings  upon  a  coal' 
cellar  door  passed,  on  the  motion  of  Hillocks, 
seconded  by  Drumsheugh,  who  are  both  severely 
prompted  for  the  occasion,  and  move  uneasily 
before  speaking. 

Drumsheugh  was  at  first  greatly  exalted  by  his 
poll,  and  referred  freely  on  market  days  to  his 
"  plumpers,"  but  as  time  went  on  the  irony  of  the 
situation  laid  hold  upon  him. 

**Thinko'you  and  me,  Hillocks,  veesitin' the 
schule  and  sittin'  wi'  bukes  in  oor  hands  watchin* 
the  Inspector.  Keep's  a',  it's  eneuch  to  mak'  the 
auld  Dominie  turn  in  his  grave.  Twa  meenisters 
cam'  in  his  time,  and  Domsie  put  Geordie  Hoo 
or  some  ither  gleg  laddie,  that  was  makin'  for  col- 

II 


12  DOMSIE. 

lege,  thro'  his  facin's,  and  maybe  some  bit  lassie 
brocht  her  copy-buke.  Syne  they  had  their  din- 
ner, and  Domsie  tae,  wi'  the  Doctor.  Man,  a've 
often  thocht  it  was  the  prospeck  o'  the  Schule 
Board  and  its  weary  bit  rules  that  feenished 
Domsie.  He  wasna  maybe  sae  shairp  at  the  ele- 
ments as  this  pirjinct  body  we  hae  noo,  but  a'body 
kent  he  was  a  terrible  scholar  and  a  credit  tae  the 
parish.  Drumtochty  was  a  name  in  thae  days 
wi'  the  lads  he  sent  tae  college.  It  was  maybe 
juist  as  weel  he  slippit  awa'  when  he  did,  for  he 
wud  hae  taen  ill  with  thae  new  fikes,  and  nae 
college  lad  to  warm  his  hert." 

The  present  school-house  stands  in  an  open 
place  beside  the  main  road  to  IMuirtoww,  treeless 
and  comfortless,  built  of  red,  staring  stone,  with 
a  playground  for  the  boys  and  another  for  the 
girls,  and  a  trim,  smug-looking  teacher's  house, 
ail  very  neat  and  symmetrical,  and  well  regu- 
lated. The  local  paper  had  a  paragraph  headed 
"Drumtochty,"  written  by  the  INIuirtown  archi- 
tect, describing  the  whole  premises  in  technical 
language  that  seemed  to  compensate  the  rate- 
payers for  the  cost,  mentioning  the  contractor's 
name,  and  concluding  that  "this  handsome  build- 
ing of  the  Scoto-Grecian  style  was  one  of  the 
finest  works  that  had  ever  come  from  the  accom- 
plished architect's  hands."  It  has  pitch-pine 
benches  and  map-cases,  and  a  thermometer  to  be 
kept  at  not  less  than  58°  and  not  more  than  di^^ 


A  LAD  0'  PAIRTS  13 

and  ventilators  which  the  Inspector  is  careful  to 
examine.  When  I  stumbled  in  last  week  the 
teacher  was  drilling  the  children  in  Tonic  Sol-fa 
with  a  httle  harmonium,  and  I  left  on  tiptoe. 

It  is  difficult  to  live  up  to  this  kind  of  thing-, 
and  my  thoughts  drift  to  the  auld  schule-house 
and  Domsie.  Some  one  with  the  love  of  God  in 
his  heart  had  built  it  long  ago,  and  chose  a  site 
for  the  bairns  in  the  sweet  pine-woods  at  the  foot 
of  the  cart  road  to  Whinnie  Knowe  and  the  up- 
land farms.  It  stood  in  a  clearing  with  the  tall 
Scotch  firs  round  three  sides,  and  on  the  fourth  a 
brake  of  gorse  and  bramble  bushes,  through  which 
there  was  an  opening  to  the  road.  The  clearing 
was  the  playground,  and  in  summer  the  bairns 
annexed  as  much  wood  as  they  liked,  playing  tig 
among  the  trees,  or  sitting  down  at  dinner-time 
on  the  soft,  dry  spines  that  made  an  elastic  carpet 
everywhere.  Domsie  used  to  say  there  were  two 
pleasant  sights  for  his  old  eyes  every  day.  One 
was  to  stand  in  the  open  at  dinner-time  and  see 
the  flitting  forms  of  the  healthy,  rosy  sonsie 
bairns  in  the  wood,  and  from  the  door  in  the  after- 
noon to  watch  the  schule  skail,  till  each  group 
was  lost  in  the  kindly  shadow,  and  the  merry 
shouts  died  away  in  this  quiet  place.  Then  the 
Dominie  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  and  locked  the 
door,  and  went  to  his  house  beside  the  school. 
One  evening  I  came  on  him  listening  bareheaded 
to  the  voices,  and  he  showed  so  kindly  that  I 


14  DOMSIE. 

shall  take  him  as  he  stands.  A  man  of  middle 
height,  but  stooping  below  it,  with  sandy  hair 
turning  to  gray,  and  bushy  eyebrow  covering 
keen,  shrewd  gray  eyes.  You  will  notice  that 
his  linen  is  coarse  but  spotless,  and  that,  though 
his  clothes  are  worn  almost  threadbare,  they  are 
well  brushed  and  orderly.  But  you  will  be  chiefly 
arrested  by  the  Dominie's  coat,  for  the  Hke  of  it 
was  not  in  the  parish.  It  was  a  black  dress  coat, 
and  no  man  knew  when  it  had  begun  its  history  ; 
in  its  origin  and  its  continuance  it  resembled  Mel- 
chisedek.  Many  were  the  myths  that  gathered 
round  that  coat,  but  on  this  all  were  agreed,  that 
without  it  we  could  not  have  realized  the  Dom- 
inie, and  it  became  to  us  the  sign  and  trappings 
of  learning.  He  had  taken  a  high  place  at  the 
University,  and  won  a  good  degree,  and  I've 
heard  the  Doctor  say  that  he  had  a  career  before 
him.  But  something  happened  in  his  life,  and 
Domsie  buried  himself  amon^  the  woods  with 
the  bairns  of  Drumtochty.  No  one  knew  the 
story,  but  after  he  died  I  found  a  locket  on  his 
breast,  with  a  proud,  beautiful  face  within,  and  I 
have  fancied  it  was  a  tragedy.  It  may  have  been 
in  substitution  that  he  gave  all  his  love  to  the 
children,  and  nearly  all  his  money  too,  helping 
lads  to  college,  and  affording  an  inexhaustible 
store  of  peppermints  for  the  little  ones. 

Perhaps  one  ought  to  have  been  ashamed  of 
that  school-house,  but  yet  it  had  its  own  distinc- 


I   ■'"^^^ 


^l[[^'' 


DOMSIE. 


A  LAD  a  PAIRTS.  15 

tion,  for  -rholars  were  born  there,  and  now  and 
then  to  this  day  some  famous  man  will  come  and 
stand  in  the  deserted  playground  for  a  space. 
The  door  was  at  one  end,  and  stood  open  in 
summer,  so  that  the  boys  saw  the  rabbits  come 
out  from  their  holes  on  the  edge  of  the  wood, 
and  birds  sometimes  flew  in  unheeded.  The 
fireplace  was  at  the  other  end,  and  was  fed 
in  winter  with  the  sticks  and  peats  brought  by 
the  scholars.  On  one  side  Domsie  sat  with  the 
half-dozen  lads. he  hoped  to  send  to  college,  to 
whom  he  grudged  no  labor,  and  on  the  other 
gathered  the  very  little  ones,  who  used  to  warm 
their  bare  feet  at  the  fire,  while  down  the  sides  of 
the  room  the  other  scholars  sat  at  their  rough  old 
desks,  working  sums  and  copying.  Now  and 
then  a  class  came  up  and  did  some  task,  and  at 
times  a  boy  got  the  tawse  for  his  negligence,  but 
never  a  girl.  He  kept  the  girls  in  as  their  pun- 
ishment, with  a  brother  to  take  them  home,  and 
both  had  tea  in  Domsie's  house,  with  a  bit  of  his 
best  honey,  departing  much  torn  between  an 
honest  wish  to  please  Domsie  and  a  pardonable 
longing  for  another  tea. 

** Domsie,"  as  we  called  the  schoolmaster,  be- 
hind his  back  in  Drumtochty,  because  we  loved 
him,  was  true  to  the  tradition  of  his  kind,  and 
had  an  unerring  scent  for  "pairts"  in  his  laddies. 
He  could  detect  a  scholar  in  the  q.%^,  and  proph- 
esied Latinity  from  a  boy  that  seemed  fit  only 


l6  DOMSIE. 

to  be  a  cowherd.  It  was  believed  that  he  had 
never  made  a  mistake  in  judgment,  and  it  was 
not  his  blame  if  the  embryo  scholar  did  not  come 
to  birth.  "Five  and  thirty  years  have  I  been 
minister  at  Drumtochty,"  the  Doctor  used  to  say 
at  school  examinations,  **and  we  have  never 
wanted  a  student  at  the  University,  and  while 
Dominie  Jamieson  lives  we  never  shall."  Where- 
upon Domsie  took  snuff,  and  assigned  his  share 
of  credit  to  the  Doctor,  '*  who  gave  the  finish  in 
Greek  to  every  lad  of  them,  without  money  and 
without  price,  to  make  no  mention  of  the  higher 
mathematics."  Seven  ministers,  four  school- 
masters, four  doctors,  one  professor,  and  three 
civil  service  men  had  been  sent  out  by  the  auld 
schule  in  Domsie's  time,  besides  many  that  "  had 
given  themselves  to  mercantile  pursuits. " 

He  had  a  leaning  to  classics  and  the  profes- 
sions, but  Domsie  was  catholic  in  his  recognition 
of  "pairts,"  and  when  the  son  of  Hillocks'  fore- 
man made  a  collection  of  the  insects  of  Drum- 
tochty,  there  was  a  council  at  the  manse. 
"Bumbee  Willie,"  as  he  had  been  pleasantly 
called  by  his  companions,  was  rescued  from  ridi- 
cule and  encouraged  to  fulfil  his  bent.  Once  a 
year  a  long  letter  came  to  Mr.  Patrick  Jamieson, 
M.A.,  Schoolmaster,  Drumtochty,  N.  B.,  and  the 
address  within  was  the  British  Museum.  When 
Domsie  read  this  letter  to  the  school,  he  was 
always  careful  to  explain  that  **Dr.  Graham  is 


A  LAD  0'  PAIRTS,  X7 

the  greatest  living  authority  on  beetles,"  and, 
generally  speaking,  if  any  clever  lad  did  not  care 
for  Latin,  he  had  the  alternative  of  beetles. 

But  it  was  Latin  Domsie  hunted  for  as  for  fine 
gold,  and  when  he  found  the  smack  of  it  in  a  lad 
he  rejoiced  openly.  He  counted  it  a  day  in  his 
life  when  he  knew  certainly  that  he  had  hit  on 
another  scholar,  and  the  whole  school  saw  the 
identification  of  George  Howe.  For  a  winter 
Domsie  had  been  *'at  point,"  racing  George 
through  Caesar,  stalking  him  behind  irregular 
verbs,  baiting  traps  with  tit-bits  of  Virgil.  Dur- 
ing these  exercises  Domsie  surveyed  George  from 
above  his  spectacles  with  a  hope  that  grew  every 
day  in  assurance,  and  came  to  its  height  over  a 
bit  of  Latin  prose.  Domsie  tasted  it  visibly,  and 
read  it  again  in  the  shadow  of  the  firs  at  meal- 
time, slapping  his  leg  twice. 

"  He'll  dae  !  he'll  dae  !  "  cried  Domsie  aloud, 
ladling  in  the  snuff.  "George,  ma  mannie,  tell 
yir  father  that  I  am  comin'  up  to  Whinnie  Knowe 
the  nicht  on  a  bit  o'  business." 

Then  the  ''  schule"  knew  that  Geordie  Hoo  was 
marked  for  college,  and  pelted  him  with  fir  cones 
in  great  gladness  of  heart. 

•"Whinnie"  was  full  of  curiosity  over  the 
Dominie's  visit,  and  vexed  Marget  sorely,  to 
whom  Geordie  had  told  wondrous  things  in  the 
milk-house.  "  It  canna  be  coals  'at  he's  wantin' 
frae  the  station,  for  there's  a  fell  puckle  left." 

2 


l8  DOMSIE. 

'*  And  it'll  no  be  seed  taties,"  she  said,  pursuing 
the  principle  of  exhaustion,  "for  he  hes  some 
Perthshire  reds  himsel'.  I  doot  it's  somethin' 
wrang  with  Geordit,"  and  Whinnie  started  on  a 
new  track. 

"He's  been  playin'  truant  maybe.  A'  mind 
gettin'  ma  paiks  for  birdnestin'  masel.  I'll  wager 
that's  the  verra  thing.'' 

"Weel,  yir  wrang,  Weelum,"  broke  in  IVIarget, 
Whinnie's  wife,  a  tall,  silent  woman,  with  a 
speaking  face;  "it's  naither  the  ae  thing  nor 
the  ither,  but  something  I've  been  prayin'  for 
since  Geordie  was  a  wee  bairn.  Clean  yirsel  and 
meet  Domsie  on  the  road,  for  nae  man  deserves 
more  honor  in  Drumtochty,  naither  laird  nor 
farmer." 

Conversation  with  us  was  a  leisurely  game, 
with  slow  movements  and  many  pauses,  and  it 
was  our  custom  to  handle  all  the  pawns  before 
we  brought  the  queen  into  action. 

Domsie  and  Whinnie  discussed  the  weather 
with  much  detail  before  they  came  in  sight  of 
George,  but  it  was  clear  that  Domsie  was  charged 
with  something  weighty,  and  even  Whinnie  felt 
that  his  own  treatment  of  the  turnip  crop  was 
wanting  in  repose. 

At  last  Domsie  cleared  his  throat  and  looked 
at  Marget,  who  had  been  in  and  out,  but  ever 
within  hearing. 

"George  is  a  fine  laddie,  Mrs.  Howe." 


A  LiiJJ  O*  PAIRTS,  19 

An  ordinary  Drumtochty  mother,  although 
bursting  with  pride,  would  have  responded,  ''  He's 
weel  eneuch,  if  he  hed  grace  in  his  heart,"  in  a 
tone  that  implied  it  was  extrem.ely  unlikely,  and 
that  her  laddie  led  the  reprobates  of  the  parish. 
As  it  was,  Marget's  face  lightened,  and  she 
waited. 

''What  do  you  think  of  making  him.?"  and 
the  Dominie  dropped  the  words  slowly,  for  this 
w^as  a  moment  in  Drumtochty. 

There  was  just  a  single  ambition  in  those  humble 
homes,  to  have  one  of  its  members  at  college, 
and  if  Domsie  approved  a  lad,  then  his  brothers 
and  sisters  would  give  their  wages,  and  the  family 
would  live  on  skim  milk  and  oat  cake,  to  let  him 
have  his  chance. 

Whinnie  glanced  at  his  wife  and  turned  to 
Domsie. 

"Marget's  set  on  seein'  Geordie  a  minister, 
Dominie." 

"If  he's  worthy  o't,  no  otherwise.  We  haena 
the  means  though  ;  the  farm  is  highly  rented, 
and  there's  barely  a  penny  over  at  the  end  o'  the 
year. " 

"But  you  are  willing  George  should  go  and 
see  what  he  can  do.  If  he  disappoint  you,  then 
I  dinna  know  a  lad  o'  pairts  when  I  see  him, 
and  the  Doctor  is  with  me. " 

"Maister  Jamieson,"  said  Marget,  with  great 
solemnity,  **  ma  hert's  desire  is  to  see  George  a 


20  DOMSTE. 

minister,  and  if  the  Almichty  spared  me  to  hear 
ma  only  bairn  open  his  mooth  in  the  Evangel, 
I  wud  hae  naething  mair  to  ask  .  .  .  but  I  doot 
sair  it  canna  be  managed." 

Domsie  had  got  all  he  asked,  and  he  rose  ii\ 
his  strength. 

*'If  George  Howe  disna  get  to  college,  then 
he's  the  first  scholar  I've  lost  in  Drumtochty  .  .  . 
ye  'ill  manage  his  keep  and  sic  like  >  " 

*'  Nae  fear  o'  that,"  for  Whinnie  was  warming, 
*'tho'  I  haena  a  steek  (stitch)  o'  new  claithes  for 
four  years.  But  what  about  his  fees  and  ither 
outgaeins } " 

'*  There's  ae  man  in  the  parish  can  pay  George's 
fees  without  missing  a  penny,  and  I'll  warrant 
he  'ill  dae  it.  * 

"Are  ye  meanin'  Drumsheugh  ?  "  said  Whinnie, 
**  for  ye  'ill  never  get  a  penny  piece  oot  o'  him. 
Did  ye  no  hear  hoo  the  Frees  wiled  him  intae 
their  kirk,  Sabbath  past  a  week,  when  Netherton's 
sister's  son  frae  Edinboro'  wes  preaching  the 
missionary  sermon,  expectin'  a  note,  and  if  he 
didna  change  a  shillin'  at  the  public-hoose 
and  pit  in  a  penny.  Sail,  he's  a  lad  Drum- 
sheugh ;  a'm  thinking  ye  may  save  yir  journey, 
Dominie." 

But  Marget  looked  away  from  her  into  the  past, 
and  her  eyes  had  a  tender  light.  "  He  hed  the 
best  hert  in  thepairish  aince." 

Domsie  found  Drumsheucrh  inclined  for  com- 


A  LAD  O'  PAIRTS.  21 

pany,  and  assisted  at  an  exhaustive  and  caustic 
treatment  of  local  affairs.  When  the  conduct  of 
Piggie  Walker,  who  bought  Drumsheugh's  pota- 
toes and  went  into  bankruptcy  without  paying 
for  a  single  tuber,  had  been  characterized  in  lan- 
guage that  left  nothing  to  be  desired,  Drum- 
sheugh  began  to  soften  and  show  signs  of  reci- 
procity. V 

"  Hoo's  yir  laddies,  Dominie?"  whom  the 
farmers  regarded  as  a  risky  turnip  crop  in  a  stiff 
clay  that  Domsie  had  "to  fecht  awa  in."  **Are 
ony  o'  them  shaping  weel  ?  " 

Drumsheugh  had  given  himself  away,  and 
Domsie  laid  his  first  parallel  with  a  glowing 
account  of  George  Howe  s  Latinity,  which  was 
well  received. 

"Weel,  I'm  gled  tae  hear  sic  accoonts  o'  Mar- 
get  Hoo's  son  ;  there's  naething  in  Whinnie  but 
what  the  spune  puts  in." 

But  at  the  next  move  Drumsheugh  scented 
danger  and  stood  guard,  "Na,  na.  Dominie,  I 
see  what  yir  aifter  fine ;  ye  mind  hoo  ye  got 
three  notes  cot  o'  me  at  Perth  market  Martinmas 
a  year  past  for  ane  o'  yir  college  laddies.  Five 
punds  for  four  years ;  my  word,  yir  no  blate 
(modest).  And  what  for  sud  I  educat  Marget 
Hoo's  bairn  .?  If  ye  kent  a'  ye  wudna  ask  me  ;  it's 
no  reasonable,  Dominie.     So  there's  an  end  o't." 

Domsie  was  only  a  pedantic  old  parish  school- 
master, and  he  knew  little  beyond  his  craft,  but 


22  DOMSIE. 

the  spirit  of  the  Humanists  awoke  within  him,  and 
he  smote  with  all  his  might,  bidding  good-bye  to 
his  English  as  one  flings  away  the  scabbard  of  a 
sword. 

"  Ye  think  that  a'm  asking  a  great  thing  when 
I  plead  for  a  pickle  notes  to  give  a  puir  laddie 
a  college  education.  I  tell  ye,  man,  a'm  hon- 
orin'  ye  and  givin'  ye  the  fairest  chance  yell  ever 
hae  o'  winning  wealth.  Gin  ye  store  the  money 
ye  hae  scrapit  by  mony  a  hard  bargain,  some 
heir  ye  never  saw  '11  gar  it  flee  in  chambering  and 
wantonness.  Gin  ye  hed  the  heart  to  spend  it  on 
a  lad  o'  pairts  like  Geordie  Hoo,  ye  wud  hae  twa 
rewards  nae  man  could  tak  frae  ye.  Ane  wud  be 
the  honest  gratitude  o'  a  laddie  whose  desire  for 
knowledge  ye  hed  sateesfied,  and  the  second  wud 
be  this — anither  scholar  in  the  land;  and  a'm 
thinking  with  auld  John  Knox  that  ilka  scholar  is 
something  added  to  the  riches  of  the  common- 
wealth. And  what  'ill  it  cost  ye  ?  Little  mair  than 
the  price  o'  a  cattle  beast.  Man,  Drumsheugh,  ye 
poverty-stricken  cratur,rve  naethin'  in  this  world 
but  a  handfu'  o'  books  and  a  ten-pundnote  for  my 
funeral,  and  yet,  if  it  wasna  I  have  all  my  brith- 
er's  bairns  tae  keep,  I  wud  pay  every  penny 
mysel'.  But  I'll  no  see  Geordie  sent  to  the 
plough,  tho'  I  gang  frae  door  to  door.  Na,  na, 
the  grass  '11  no  grow  on  the  road  atween  the  col- 
lege and  the  schule-hoose  o'  Drumtochty  till  they 
lay  me  in  the  auld  kirkyard." 


A  LAD  O'  PAIRTS,  2% 

"Sail,  Domsie  was  roosed,"  Drumsheugh  ex- 
plained in  the  Muirtown  inn  next  market. 
*'  'Miserly  wratch'  was  the  ceevilest  word  on  his 
tongue.  He  wud  naither  sit  nor  taste,  and  was 
half  way  doon  the  yaird  afore  I  cud  quiet  him. 
An'  a'm  no  sayin'  he  hed  na  reason  if  I'd  been 
meanin'  a'  I  said.  It  wud  be  a  scan'al  to  the 
pairish  if  a  likely  lad  cudna  win  tae  college  for  the 
want  o'  siller.  Na,  na,  neeburs,  we  hae  oor 
faults,  but  we're  no  sae  dune  mean  as  that  in 
Drumtochty." 

As  it  was,  when  Domsie  did  depart  he  could 
only  grip  Drumsheugh's  hand,  and  say  Maecenas, 
and  was  so  intoxicated,  but  not  with  strong  drink,- 
that  he  explained  to  Hillocks  on  the  way  home 
that  Drumsheugh  would  be  a  credit  to  Drum- 
tochty,  and  that  his  Latin  style  reminded  him  of 
Cicero.  He  added  as  an  afterthought  that  Whin- 
nie  Knowe  had  promised  to  pay  Drumsheugh's 
fees  for  four  years  at  the  University  of  Edinburgh. 


II 


HOW  WE  CARRIED  THE  NEWS  TO 
WHIxXNIE  KNOWE. 

DoMsiE  was  an  artist,  and  prepared  the  way  for 
George's  University  achievement  with  much  cun- 
ning. Once  every  Sabbath  in  the  kirk-yard, 
where  he  laid  down  the  law  beneath  an  old  elm 
tree,  and  twice  between  Sabbaths,  at  the  post- 
office  and  by  the  wayside,  he  adjured  us  not  to 
expect  beyond  measure,  and  gave  us  reasons. 
.  **Yesee,  he  has  a  natural  talent  for  learning, 
and  took  to  Latin  like  a  duck  to  water.  What 
could  be  done  in  Drumtochty  was  done  for  him, 
and  he's  working  night  and  day,  but  he'll  have 
a  sore  fight  with  the  lads  from  the  town  schools. 
Na,  ra,  neighbors,"  said  the  Dominie,  lapsing 
into  dialect,  "we  daurna  luik  for  a  prize.  No 
the  first  year,   at  ony  rate." 

"  Man,  Domiiiie.  A'm  clean  astonished  at  ye," 
Drumsheugh  used  to  break  in,  who,  since  he  had 
given  to  George's  support,  outran  us  all  in  his 
faith,  and  had  no  patience  with  Domsie's  devices, 
"a'  tell  ye  if  Geordie  disna  get  a  first  in  every 
class  he's  entered  for,  the  judges  'ill  be  a  puir 
lot,"  with  a  fine  confusion  of  circumstances. 

24 


I 

HOW  WE  CARRIED  THE  NEWS.  25 

*'Losh,  Drumsheugh,  be  quiet,  or  ye'll  dae  the 
laddie  an  injury,"  said  Domsie,  with  genuine 
alarm.  *'  We  maunna  mention  prizes,  and  first 
is  fair  madness.  A  certificate  of  honor  now, 
that  will  be  aboot  it,  may  be  next  to  the  prize- 
men." 

Coming  home  from  market  he  might  open  his 
heart.  "George  'ill  be  amang  the  first  sax,  or 
my  name  is  no  Jamieson,"  but  generally  he 
prophesied  a  moderate  success.  There  were 
times  when  he  affected  indifference,  and  talked 
cattle.  We  then  regarded  him  with  awe,  because 
this  was  more  than  mortal. 

It  was  my  luck  to  carry  the  bulletin  to  Domsie, 
and  I  learned  what  he  had  been  enduring.  It 
was  good  manners  in  Drumtochty  to  feign 
amazement  at  the  sight  of  a  letter,  and  to  insist 
that  it  must  be  intended  for  some  other  person. 
When  it  was  finally  forced  upon  one,  you  ex- 
amined the  handwriting  at  various  angles  and 
speculated  about  the  writer.  Some  felt  em- 
boldened, after  these  precautions,  to  open  the 
letter,  but  this  haste  was  considered  indecent. 
When  Posty  handed  Drumsheugh  the  factor's 
letter,  with  the  answer  to  his  offer  for  the  farm, 
he  only  remarked,  '*  It'll  be  frae  the  factor,"  and 
harked  back  to  a  polled  Angus  bull  he  had  seen 
at  the  show.  "Sail,"  said  Posty  in  the  kirkyard 
with  keen  relish,  '  *  ye'll  never  flurry  Drumsheugh. " 
Ordinary    letters    were    read   in  leisurely  retire- 


26  DOMSIE, 

ment,  and,  in  case  of  urgency,  answered  within 
the  week. 

Domsie  clutched  the  letter,  and  would  have 
torn  off  the  envelope.  But  he  could  not ;  his 
hand  was  shaking  like  an  aspen.  He  could  only 
look,  and  I  read  : 

"Dear  Mr,  Jamieson, — The  class  honor  lists 
are  just  out,  and  you  will  be  pleased  to  know 
that  I  have  got  the  medal  both  in  the  Hunianity 
and  the  Greek. " 

There  was  something  about  telling  his  mother, 
and  his  gratitude  to  his  schoolmaster,  but  Domsie 
heard  no  more.  He  tried  to  speak  and  could 
not,  for  a  rain  of  tears  was  on  his  hard  old  face. 
Domsie  was  far  more  a  pagan  than  a  saint,  but 
somehow  he  seemed  to  me  that  day  as  Simeon, 
who  had  at  last  seen  his  heart's  desire,  and  was 
satisfied. 

When  the  school  had  dispersed  with  a  joyful 
shout,  and  disappeared  in  the  pine  woods,  he 
said,  "  Ye'll  come  too,"  and  I  knew  he  was  going 
to  Whinnie  Knowe.  He  did  not  speak  one  word 
upon  the  way,  but  twice  he  stood  and  read  the 
letter  which  he  held  fast  in  his  hand.  His  face 
was  set  as  he  climbed  the  cart  track.  I  saw  it 
set  again  as  we  came  down  that  road  one  day, 
but  it  was  well  that  we  could  not  pierce  beyond 
the  present. 

Whinnie  left  his  plough  in  the  furrow,  and 
came  to  meet  us,   taking  two  drills  at  a  stride. 


HOW  WE  CARRIED  THE  NEWS.  27 

and  shouting  remarks  on  the  weather  yards 
off. 

Domsie  only  lifted  the  letter.      "  Frae  George/' 

*' Ay,  ay,  and  what's  he  gotten  noo  ?  " 

Domsie  solemnly  unfolded  the  letter,  and 
brought  down  his  spectacles.  "  Edinburgh,  April 
7th."  Then  he  looked  at  Whinnie,  and  closed 
his  mouth. 

♦'We'll  tell  it  first  to  his  mither." 

"Yer  richt,  Dominie.  She  weel  deserves  it. 
A'm  thinking  she's  seen  us  by  this  time. "  So  we 
fell  into  a  procession,  Dominie  leading  by  two 
yards  ;  and  then  a  strange  thing  happened.  For 
the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life  Domsie  whistled, 
and  the  tune  was  **  A  hundred  pipers  and  a'  and 
a',"  and  as  he  v/histled  he  seemed  to  dilate  before 
our  eyes,  and  he  struck  down  thistles  with  his 
stick — a  thistle  at  every  stroke. 

"Domsie's  fair  carried,"  whispered  Whinnie, 
*'it  cowes  a'." 

Marget  met  us  at  the  end  of  the  house  beside 
the  brier  bush,  where  George  was  to  sit  on 
summer  afternoons  before  he  died,  and  a  flash 
passed  between  Domsie  and  the  lad's  mother. 
Then  she  knew  that  it  was  well,  and  fixed  her 
eyes  on  the  letter,  but  Whinnie,  his  thumbs  in 
his  armholes,  watched  the  wife. 

Domsie  now  essayed  to  read  the  news,  but 
between  the  shaking  of  his  hands  and  his  voice 
he  could  not 


28  DOMSIE. 

"It's  nae  use,"  he  cried,  "he's  first  in  the 
Humanity  oot  o'  a  hundred  and  seeventy  lads, 
first  o'  them  a',  and  he's  first  in  the  Greek  too  ; 
the  like  o'  this  is  hardly  known,  iand  it  hafe  na 
been  seen  in  Drumtochty  since  there  was  a  schule. 
That's  the  word  he's  sent,  and  he  bade  me  tell 
his  mother  without  delay,  and  I  am  here  as  fast 
as  my  old  feet  could  carry  mel"*    ^  • 

I  glanced  round,  although  I  did  not  myself  see 
very  clearly. 

Marget  was  silent  for  the  space  of  five  seconds  ; 
she  was  a  good  worhan,  and  I  knew  that  better 
afterwards.  She  took  the  Dominie's  hand,  and 
said  to  him,  ** Under  God  this  was  your  doing, 
Maister  Jamieson,  and  for  your  reward  ye'ill  get 
naither  silver  nor  -g^old,  but  yc  hae  a  mither's 
gratitude." 

Whinnie  gave  a  hoarse  chuckle  and  said  to  his 
"wife,  *'  It  was  frae  you,  Marget,  he  got  it  a'." 
•  When  we  settled  in  the  parlor  Domsie's  tongue 
was  loosed,  and  he  lifted  up  his  voice  and  sang 
the  victory  of  Geordie  Hoo. 

<  **It's  ten  years  ago  at  the  brak  up  o'  the  winter 
ye  brought  him  down  to  me,  Mrs.  Hoo,  and  ye 
said  at  the  schule-hoose  dOor,  'Dinna  be  hard  on 
him,  Maister  Jamieson,  he's  my  only  bairn,  and 
a  wee  thingie  quiet.'  Div  ye  mind  what  I  said, 
*  There's  something  ahint  that  face,'  and  my  heart 
warmed  to  George  that  hour.  Two  years  after 
the  Doctor  examined  the  schule,  and  he  looks  at 


ffOWWE  CARRIED  THE  NEWS.  29 

George.  'That's  a  likely  lad,  Dominie.  What 
think  ye?'  -And  he  was  only  eigfht  years  auld, 
and  no  big  for  his  size.  *  Doctor,  I  daurna  proph- 
esy till  we  turn  him  into  the  Latin,  but  a've 
my  thoughts.'  So  I  had  a'  the  tin>e,  but  I  never 
boasted,  na,  na,  that's  dangerous.  Didna  I  say, 
'  Ye  hev  a  promisin'  laddie,  Whinnie,'  ae  day  in 
the  market.?"    ^  -  •   . 

"  It's  a  facV'  said  Whinnie,  **it  was  the  day  I 
bocht  the  white  coo."    But  Domsie  swept  on. 

"The  first  year  o*  Latin  was  enough  forme. 
He  juist  nippet  up  his  verbs.  Caesar  could  na 
keep  him  goin' ;  he  wes  into  Virgil  afore  he  was 
eleven,  and  the  Latin  prose,  man,  as  sure  as  a'm 
living,  it  tasted  o*  Cicero  frae  the  beginning." 

Whinnie  wagged  his  head  in  amazement. 

**It  was  the  verra  nicht  o'  the  Latin  prose  I 
cam  up  to  speak  aboot  the  college,  and  ye  thocht 
Geordie  had  been  playing  truant,"  • 

Whinnie  laughed  uproariously,  but  Domsie 
heeded  not. 

'*  It  was  awfu'  work  the  iiext  twa  years,  but  the 
Doctor  stood  in  weel  wi'  the  Greek.  Ye  mind 
hoo  Geordie  tramped  ower  the  muir  to  the  manse 
thro'  the  weet  an'  the  snaw,  and  there  wes  aye 
dry  stockings  for  him  in  the  kitchen  afore  he  had 
his  Greek  \\\  the  Doctor's  study." 

**And  a  warm  drink  tae,"  put  in  Marget,  ''and 
that's  the  window  I  pit  the  licht  in  to  guide 
him   hame  in  the  dark   winter  nichts,  and  mony 


j^  DOMSIE, 

a  time  when  the  sleet  played  swish  on  the  glass 

I   wes  near  wishin' "     Domsie    waved  his 

hand. 

"  But  that's  dune  wi'  noo,  and  he  was  worth  a' 
the  toil  and  trouble.  First  in  the  Humanity  and 
first  in  the  Greek,  sweepit  the  field,  Lord  preserve 
us.  A'  can  hardly  believe  it.  Eh,  I  was  feared  o' 
thae  High  School  lads.  They  had  terrible  advan- 
tages. Maisters  frae  England,  and  tutors,  and 
whatna,'but  Drumtochty  carried  aff  the  croon. 
It'll  be  fine  reading  in  the  papers — 
Humanity. — First     Prize     (and     Medal),    George 

Howe,  Drumtochty,  Perthshire. 
Greek. — First  Prize  (and  Medal).   George  Howe, 
Drumtochty,  Perthshire. '* 

"  It'll  be  michty,"  cried  Whinnie,  now  fairly  on 
fire. 

"And  Philosophy  and  Mathematics  to  come. 
Geordie's  no  bad  at  Eculid.  I'll  wager  he'll  be 
first  there  too.  When  he  gets  his  hand  in  there's 
naething  he's  no  fit  for  wi'  time.  My  ain  laddie 
— and  the  Doctor's — we  maunna  forget  him — it's 
his  classics  he  hes,  every  book  o'  them.  The 
Doctor  'ill  be  lifted  when  he  comes  back  ori 
Saturday.  A'm  thinkin'  we'll  hear  o't  on  Sabbath. 
And  Drumsheugh  he'll  be  naither  to  had  nor 
bind  in  the  kirk-yard.  As  for  me,  I  wad  na 
change  places  wi'  the  Duke  o'  Athole,"  and 
Domsie  shook  the  table  to  its  foundation. 

Then   he   awoke,  as  from   a   dream,    and   the 


ffOlV  WE  CARRIED  THE  NEWS. 


31 


shame  of  boasting  that  shuts  the  mouths  of  self- 
respecting  Scots  descended  upon  him. 

**  But  this  is  fair  nonsense.  Ye'U  no  mind  the 
havers  o'  an  auld  dominie." 

He  fell  back  on  a  recent  roup,  and  would  not 
again  break  away,  although  sore^ly  tempted  by- 
certain  of  Whinnie's  speculations. 

When  I  saw  him  last,  his  coat-tails  were  waving 
victoriously  as  he  leaped  a  dyke  on  his  way  to 
tell  our  Drumtochty  Maecenas  that  the  judges 
knew  their  business. 


ni. 

IN  MARGET'S   GARDEN. 

The  cart  track  to  Whinnie  Knowe  was  com- 
manded by  a  gable  wi?i do \v%  and  Whinnie  boasted 
that  Marget  had  never  been  taken  unawares. 
Tramps,  finding  every  door  locked,  and  no  sign 
of  Hfe  anywhere,  used  to  express  their  mind  in 
the  "close,"  and  return  by  the  way  they  came, 
while  ladies  from  Kildrummie,  fearful  lest  they 
should  put  Mrs.  Howe  out,  were  met  at  the  gar- 
den gate  by  Marget  in  her  Sabbath  dress,  and 
brought  in  to  a  set  tea  as  if  they  had  been  invited 
weeks  before. 

Whinnie  gloried  most  in  the  discomfiture  of 
the  Tory  agent,  who  had  vainly  hoped  to  coerce 
him  in  the  stack  yard  without  Marget's  presence, 
as  her  intellectual  contempt  for  the  Conservative 
party  knew  no  bounds. 

"Sail  she  saw  him  slip  aff  the  road  afore  the 
last  stile,  and  wheep  roond  the  fit  o'  the  gairden 
\va'  like  a  tod  (fox)  aifter  the  chickens. 

"'It's  a  het  day,  Maister  Anderson,'  says 
Marget  frae  the  gairden,  lookin'  doon  on  him  as 
32 


JN  MARGErS  GARDEN, 


33 


calm  as  ye  like.      '  Yir  surely  no  gaein'  to  pass  oor 
hoose  without  a  gless  'o  milk  ? ' 

"Wud  ye  believe  it,  he  wes  that  upset  he  left 
withoot  sayin'  '^vote,'  and  Drumsheugh  telt  me 
next  market  that  his  langidge  aifterwards  cudna 
be  printed."  -       • 

When  George  came  home  for  the  last  time, 
Marget  went  back  and  forward  all  afternoon  from 
his  be  \-oom  to  the  window,  and  hid  herself 
benea-  the  labunium  to  see  his' face  as  the  cart 
stood  before  the  stile.  It  told  her  plain  what  she 
had  feared,  and  Marget  passed  through  her 
Gothsemane  with  the  gold  blossoms  falling  on  her 
face.  When  their  eyes  met,  and  before  she 
helped  him  down,  mother  and  son  understood. 

'*Ye  mind  what  I  told  ye,  o'  the  Greek 
mothers,  the  day  I  left.  Weel,  I  wud  hae  liked 
to  have  carried  my  shield,  but  it'Wasna  to  be,-  so 
I've  come  home  on  it."  As  they  went  slowly  up 
the  garden  walk,  •*'  I've  got  my  degree,  a  double 
first,  mathematics  andclassics."  .»' 

"Ye've    been   a  gude    soldier,    George,    and 
faithfu'." 
•  "Unto  death,  a'm  dootin',   mother." 

"  Na,"  said  Marget,  *'  unto  Hfe."  ■ 

Drumtochty  was  not  a  heartening  place  in 
sickness,  and  Marget,  who  did-  not  think'  our 
thoughts,  endured  much  consolation  at  her  neigh- 
bors' hands.  It  is  said  that  in  cities  visitors  con- 
gratulate a  patient  on  his  good  looks,  and  deluge 
■  3 


34 


DOMSIE. 


his  family  with  instances  of  recovery.  This 
would  have  seemed  to  us  shallow  and  unfeeling, 
besides  being  a  "  temptin'  o'  Providence,"  which 
might  not  have  intended  to  go  to  extremities,  but 
on  a  challenge  of  this  kind  had  no  alternative. 
Sickness  was  regarded  as  a  distinction  tempered 
with  judgment,  and  favored  people  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  be  humble.  I  always  thought  more  of 
Peter  Macintosh  when  the  mysterious  "  tribble  " 
that  needed  the  Perth  doctor  made  no  difference 
in  his  manner,  and  he  passed  '  his  snuff-box 
across  the  seat  before  the  long  prayer  as  usual, 
but  in  this  indifference  to  privileges  Peter  was 
exceptional. 

You  could  never  meet  Kirsty  Stewart  on  equal 
terms,  although  she  was  quite  affable  to  any  one 
who  knew  his  place. 

**  Ay,"  she  said,  on  my  respectful  allusion  to 
her  experience,  "a've  seen  mair  than  most.  It 
doesna  become  me  to  boast,  but  tho'  I  say  it 
as  sudna,  I  hae  buried  a'  my  ain  fouk." 

Kirsty  had  a  '*way"  in  sick  visiting,  consist- 
ing in  a  certain  cadence  of  the  voice  and  ar- 
rangement of  the  face,  which  was  felt  to  be 
soothing  and  complimentary. 

"Yir  aboot  again,  a'm  glad  to  see,"  to  me 
after  my  accident,  "but  yir  no  dune  wi'  that 
leg  ;  na,  na,  Jeems,  that  was  ma  second  son, 
scrapit  his  shin  aince,  tho'  no  so  bad  as  ye've 
dune  a'm  hearing  (for  I  had  denied  Kirsty  the 


IN  MARGET'S  GARDEN,  35 

courtesy  of  an  inspection).  It's  sax  year  syne 
noo,  and  he  got  up  and  wes  traivellin'  fell  hearty 
like  yersel.  But  he  begood  to  dwam  (sicken)  in 
the  end  of  the  year,  and  soughed  awa'  in  the 
spring.  Ay,  ay,  when  tribble  comes  ye  never 
ken  hoo  it  'ill  end.  A'  thocht  I  wud  come  up 
and  speir  for  ye.  A  body  needs  comfort  gin  he's 
*ober(ill)." 

When  I  found  George  wrapped  in  his  plaid 
beside  the  brier  bush  whose  roses  were  no  whiter 
than  his  cheeks,  Kirsty  was  already  installed  as 
comforter  in  the  parlor,  and  her  drone  came 
through  the  open  window. 

"Ay,  ay,  Marget,  sae  it's  come  to  this.  Weel, 
we  dauma  complain,  ye  ken.  Be  thankfu'  ye 
haena  lost  your  man  and  five  sons,  besides  twa 
sisters  and  a  brither,  no  to  mention  cousins. 
That  wud  be  something  to  speak  aboot,  and 
Losh  keep's,  there's  nae  saying  but  he  micht 
hang  on  a  whilie.  Ay,  ay,  it's  a  sair  blow  aifter 
a'  that  wes  in  the  papers.  I  wes  feared  when  I 
heard  o'  the  papers  ;  '  Lat  weel  alane,'  says  I  to 
the  Dominie  ;  *  ye  'ill  bring  a  judgment  on  the 
laddie  wi'  yir  blawing.'  But  ye  micht  as  weel 
hae  spoken  to  the  hills.  Domsie's  a  thraun  body 
at  the  best,  and  he  was  clean  infatuat'  wi'  George. 
Ay,  ay,  it's  an  awfu'  lesson,  Marget,  no  to  mak* 
idols  o'  our  bairns,  for  that's  naethin'  else  than 
provokin'  the  Almichty." 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Marget  gave  way  and 


36  DOMSIE. 

scandalized  Drumtochty,  which  held  that  ob- 
trusive prosperity  was  an  irresistible  provocation 
to  the  higher  power.>,  and  that  a  skilful  deprecia- 
tion of  our  children  was  a  policy  of  safety. 

"Did  ye  say  the  Almichty  ?  I'm  thinkin'  that's 
ower  grand  a  name  for  your  God,  Kirsty.  What 
wud  ye  think  o'  a  faither  that  brocht  hame  some 
bonnie  thing  frae  the  fair  for  ane  o'  his  bairns, 
and  when  the  puir  bairn  wes  pleased  wi'  it  tore  it 
oot  o'  his  hand  and  flung  it  into  the  fire  ?  Eh, 
woman,  he  wud  be  a  meeserable  cankered  jeal- 
ous body.  Kirtsy,  wumman,  when  the  Almichty 
sees  a  mither  bound  up  in  her  laddie,  I  tell 
ye  He  is  sair  pleased  in  His  heaven,  for  mind 
ye  hoo  He  loved  His  ain  Son.  Besides,  a'm 
judgin'  that  nane  o'  us  can  love  anithe  w'thoot 
lovin'  Him,  or  hurt  anither  withoot  hurtin'  Him. 

"Oh,  I  ken  weel  that  George  is  gaein'  to  leave 
us  ;  but  it's  no  because  the  Almichty  is  jealous  o' 
him  or  me,  no  likely.  It  cam'  to  me  last  nicht 
that  He  needs  my  laddie  for  some  grand  wark  in 
the  ither  world,  and  that's  hoo  George  has  his 
bukes  brocht  oot  tae  the  garden  and  studies  a' 
the  day.  He  wants  to  be  ready  for  his  kingdom, 
just  as  he  trachled  in  the  bit  schule  o'  Drum- 
tochty for  Edinboro'  I  hoped  he  wud  hae  been 
a  minister  o'  Christ's  Gospel  here,  but  he  'ill  be 
judge  over  many  cities  yonder.  A'm  no  denyin', 
Kirsty,  that  it's  a  trial,  buf  I  hae  licht  on  it.  and 
naethin'  but  gude  thochts  o'  the  Almichty." 


IN  MARGETS  GARDEN,  37 

>  Drumtochty  understood  that  Kirsty  had  dealt 
faithfully  with  Marget  for  pride  and  presumption, 
but  all  we  heard  was,  '  *  Losh  keep  us  a'. "      , . : 

When  Marget  came  out  and  sat  down  beside 
her  son,  her  face  was  shining.  Then  she  saw  the 
open  window. 

*'I  didnaken." 

"Never  mind,  mither,  there's  nae  secrets 
atween  us,  and  it  gar'd  my  heart  leap  to  hear  ye 
speak  up  like  yon  for  God,  and  to  know  yir  con- 
tent. Div  ye  mind  the  nicht  I  called  for  ye, 
mother,  and  ye  gave  me  the  Gospel  aboot  God  ?  " 

Marget  slipped  her  hand  into  George's,  and  he 
let  his  head  rest  on  her  shoulder.  The  likeness 
flashed  upon  me  in  that  moment,  the  earnest, 
deep-set  gray  eyes,  the  clean-cut  firm  jaw,  and 
the  tender  mobile  lips,  that  blend  of  apparent 
austerity  and  underlying  romance  that  make  the 
pathos  of  a  Scottish  face. 

** There  had  been  a  Revival  man,  here, "George 
explained  to  me,  ''and  he  was  preaching  on  hell. 
As  it  grew  dark  a  candle  was  lighted,  and  I  can 
still  see  his  face  as  in  a  picture,  a  hard-visaged 
man. ,  He  looked  down  at  us  laddies  in  the  front, 
^nd  asked  us  if  we  kne\y  what  like  hell  was.  By 
this  time  we  were  that  terrified  none  of  us  could 
speak,  but  I  whispered  'No.' 

'*  Then  he  rolled  up  a  piece  of  paper  and  held 
it  in  the  flame,  and  we  saw  it  burn  and  glow  and 
shrivel  up  and  fall  in  black  dust. 


38  DOMSIE. 

"  'Think, 'said  he,  and  he  leaned  over  the  desk, 
and  spoke  in  a  gruesome  whisper  which  made  the 
cold  run  down  our  backs,  *  that  yon  paper  was 
your  finger,  one  finger  only  of  your  hand,  and  it 
burned  like  that  for  ever  and  ever,  and  think  of 
your  hand  and  your  arm  and  your  whole  body 
all  on  fire,  never  to  go  out.'  We  shuddered  that 
you  might  have  heard  the  form  creak.  '  That  is 
hell,  and  that  is  where  ony  laddie  will  go  who 
does  not  repent  and  believe/ 

"It  was  like  Dante's  Inferno,  and  I  dared  not 
take  my  eyes  off  his  face.  He  blew  out  the 
candle,  and  we  crept  to  the  door  trembling,  not 
able  to  say  one  word. 

"That  night  I  could  not  sleep,  for  I  thought  I 
might  be  in  the  fire  before  morning.  It  was 
harvest  time,  and  the  moon  was  filling  the  room 
with  cold  clear  light.  From  my  bed  I  could  see 
the  stooks  standing  in  rows  upon  the  field,  and  it 
seemed  like  the  judgment  day. 

"I  was  only  a  wee  laddie,  and  I  did  what  we 
all  do  in  trouble,  I  cried  for  my  mother. 

"Yehae  na  forgotten,  mither,  the  fricht  that 
was  on  me  that  nicht." 

"Never,"  said  Marget,  "and  never  can;  it's 
hard  wark  for  me  to  keep  frae  hating  that  man, 
dead  or  alive.  Geordie  gripped  me  wi'  baith  his 
wee  airms  round  my  neck,  and  he  cries  over  and 
over  and  over  again,  *  Is  yon  God  ? ' 

**Ay,  and  ye  kissed  me,  mither,  and  ye  said 


IN  MARGET'S  GARDEJ\r. 


39 


(it's  like  yesterday),  'Yirsafe  with  me,' and  ye 
telt  me  that  God  micht  punish  me  to  mak  me 
better  if  I  was  bad,  but  that  He  wud  never  torture 
ony  puir  soul,  for  that  cud  dae  nae  guid,  and  was 
the  Devil's  wark.     Ye  asked  me  ; 

"  'Am  I  a  guid  mother  tae  ye?'  and  when  I 
could  dae  naethin'  but  hold,  ye  said,  *  Be  sure 
God  maun  be  a  hantle  kinder.* 

"The  truth  came  to  me  as  with  a  flicker,  and 
I  cuddled  down  into  my  bed,  and  fell  asleep  in 
His  love  as  in  my  mother's  arms. 

"  Mither,"  and  George  lifted  up  his  head,  ''that 
was  my  conversion,  and,  mither  dear,  I  hae  longed 
a'  thro'  the  college  studies  for  the  day  when  ma 
mooth  wud  be  opened  wi'  this  evangel." 

Marget's  was  an  old-fashioned  garden,  with 
pinks  and  daisies  and  forget-me-nots,  with  sweet- 
scented  wall-flower  and  thyme  and  moss  roses, 
where  nature  had  her  way,  andgracious  thoughts 
could  visit  one  without  any  jarring  note.  As 
George's  voice  softened  to  the  close,  I  caught 
her  saying,  "His  servants  shall  see  His  face," 
and  the  peace  of  Paradise  fell  upon  us  in  the 
shadow  of  death. 

The  night  before  the  end  George  was  carried 
out  to  his  corner,  and  Domsie,  whose  heart  was 
nigh  unto  the  breaking,  sat  with  him  the  after- 
noon. They  used  to  fight  the  College  battles  over 
again,  with  their  favorite  classics  beside  them, 
but  this  time  none  of  them  spoke  of  books.     Mar- 


40  DOMSIE. 

get  was  moving  about  the  garden,  and  she  told 
me  that  George  looked  at  Domsie  wistfully,  as 
if  he  had  something  to  say  and  knew  not  how  to 
do  it. 

After  a  while  he  took  a  book  from  below  his 
pillow,  and  began,  like  one  thinking  over  his 
words  : 

"  Maister  Jamieson,  ye  hae  been  a  gude  freend 
tae  me,  the  best  I  ever  hed  aifter  my  mither  and 
faither.  Wull  ye  tak  this  bulk  for  a  keepsake  o' 
yir  grateful  scholar?  It's  a  Latin  'Imitation,' 
Dominie,  and  it's  bonnie  printin'.  Ye  mind  hoo 
ye  gave  me  yir  ain  Virgil,  and  said  he  was  a  kind 
d'  Pagan  Sanct.  Noo  here  is  my  sanct,  and  div 
ye  ken  I've  often  thocht  Virgil  saw  His  day  afar 
off,  and  was  glad.     Wull  ye  read  it,  Dominie,  for 

my  sake,  and  maybe  ye  'ill  come  to  see "  and 

George  could  not  find  words  for  more. 

But  Domsie  understood.  *'  Ma  laddie,  ma 
laddie,  that  I  luve  better  than  onythin'  on  earth, 
I'll  read  it  till  I  die,  and,  George,  I'll  tell  ye  what 
livin'  man  does  na  ken.  When  I  was  your  verra 
age  I  had  a  cruel  trial,  and  ma  heart  was  turned 
frae  faith.  The  classics  hae  been  my  Bible,  though 
I  said  naethin'  to  ony  man  against  Christ.  He 
aye  seemed  beyond  man,  and  noo  the  veesion  o* 
Him  has  come  to  me  in  thisgairden.  Laddie,  ye 
hae  dune  far  mair  for  me  than  I  ever  did  for  you. 
Wull  ye  mak  a  prayer  for  yir  auld  dominie  afore 
we  pairt  ? " 


JN  MARGET'S  GARDEN-.  41 

There  was  a  thrush  singing  in  the  birches  and 
a  sound  of  bees  in  the  air,  when  George  prayed 
in  a  low,  soft  voice,  with  a  little  break  in  it. 

"Lord  Jesus,  remember  my  dear  maister,  for 
he's  been  a  kind  freend  to  me  and  mony  a  puir 
laddie  in  Drumtochty.  Bind  up  his  sair  heart  and 
give  him  licht  at  eventide,  and  may  the  maister 
and  his  scholars  meet  some  mornin'  where  the 
schule  never  skails,  in  the  kingdom  o'  oor  Father." 

Twice  Domsie  said  Amen,  and  it  seemed  as 
the  voice  of  another  man,  and  then  he  kissed 
George  upon  the  forehead  ;  but  what  they  said 
Marget  did  not  wish  to  hear. 

When  he  passed  out  at  the  garden  gate,  the 
westering  sun  was  shining  golden,  and  the  face 
of  Domsie  was  like  unto  that  of  a  little  child. 


TV. 

A  SCHOLAR'S  FUNERAL. 

Drumtochty  never  acquitted  itself  with  credit  at 
a  marriage,  having  no  natural  aptitude  forgayety, 
and  being  haunted  with  anxiety  lest  any  "  hicht  " 
should  end  in  a  "howe,"  but  the  parish  had  a 
genius  for  funerals.  It  was  long  mentioned  with 
a  just  sense  of  merit  that  an  English  undertaker, 
chancing  on  a  "  beerial  "  with  us,  had  no  limits  to 
his  admiration.  He  had  been  disheartened  to 
despair  all  his  life  by  the  ghastly  efforts  of  chirpy 
little  Southerners  to  look  solemn  on  occasion, 
but  his  dreams  were  satisfied  at  the  sight  of  men 
like  Drumsheugh  and  Hillocks  in  their  Sabbath 
blacks.  Nature  lent  an  initial  advantage  in  face, 
but  it  was  an  instinct  in  the  blood  that  brought 
our  manner  to  perfection  and  nothing  could  be 
more  awful  than  a  group  of  those  austere  figures, 
each  man  gazing  into  vacancy  without  a  trace  of 
expression,  and  refusing  to  recognize  his  nearest 
neighbor  by  word  or  look.  Drumtochty  gave  itself 
to  a  "beerial"  with  chastened  satisfaction,  partly 
because  it  lay  near  to  the  sorrow  of  things,  and 
partly  because  there  was  nothing  of  speculation 
42 


A  SCHOLAR'S  FUNERAL, 


43 


in  it.  "Ye  can  hae  little  rael  pleesure  in  a  mer- 
rige,"  explained  our  gravedigger,  in  whom  the 
serious  side  had  been  perhaps  abnormally  devel- 
oped, "for  ye  never  Icen  hoo  it  will  end;  but 
there's  nae  risk  about  a  *  beerial. ' " 

It  came  with  a  shock  upon  townsmen  that  the 
ceremony  began  with  a  "  service  o'  speerits,"  and 
that  an  attempt  of  the  Free  Kirk  minister  to  replace 
this  by  the  reading  of  Scripture  was  resisted  as  an 
"innovation."  Yet  every  one  admitted  that  the 
seriousness  of  Drumtochty  pervaded  and  sanctified 
this  function.  A  tray  of  glasses  was  placed  on  a 
table  with  great  solemnity  by  the  "  wricht,"  who 
made  no  sign  and  invited  none.  You  might  have 
supposed  that  the  circumstance  had  escaped  the 
notice  of  the  company,  so  abstracted  and  uncon- 
scious was  their  manner,  had  it  not  been  that  two 
graven  images  a  minute  later  are  standing  at  the 
table. 

"Ye 'ill  taste,  Tammas,"  with  settled  melan- 
choly. 

"Na,  na  ;  I've  nae  incleenation  the  day;  it's 
an  awfu'  dispensation  this,  Jeems.  She  wud  be 
barely  saxty. " 

"Ay,  ay,  but  we  maun  keep  up  the  body  sae 
lang  as  we're  here,  Tammas." 

"Weel,  puttin'  it  that  way,  a'm  no  sayin' but 
yir  richt,"  yielding  unwillingly  to  the  force  of 
circiimstalice. 

"We're  here  the  day  and  there  the  morn,  Tarn* 


44  DOMSIE. 

mas.  She  wes  a  fine  wumman — Mistress  Stirton 
— a  weel-livin'  wumman  ;  this  'ill  be  a  blend,  a'm 
thinkin'." 

"She  slippit  aff  sudden  in  the  end  ;  a'm  judgin* 
its  frae  the  Muirtown  grocer  ;  but  a  body  canna 
discreeminate  on  a  day  like  this." 

Before  the  glasses  are  empty  all  idea  of  drink- 
ing is  dissipated,  and  one  has  a  vague  impression 
that  he  is  at  church. 

It  was  George  Howe's  funeral  that  broke  the 
custom  and  closed  the  "service."  When  I  came 
into  the  garden  where  the  neighbors  were  gath- 
ered, the  "wricht"  was  removing  his  tray,  and 
not  a  glass  had  been  touched.  Then  I  knew  that 
Drumtochty  had  a  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things, 
and  was  stirred  to  its  depths. 

"Ye  saw  the  wricht  carry  in  his  tray,"  said 
Drumsheugh,  as  we  went  home  from  the  kirk- 
yard.  "Weel,  yon's  the  last  sicht  o't  ye  'ill  get, 
or  a'm  no  Drumsheugh.  I've  nae  objection  masel' 
to  a  neebur  tastin'  at  a  funeral,  a'  the  mair  if  he's 
come  frae  the  upper  end  o*  the  pairish,  and  ye 
ken  I  dinna  hold  wi'  thae  teetotal  fouk.  A'm 
o\Ter  auld  in  the  horn  to  change  noo.  But  there's 
times  and  seasons,  as  the  gude  Bulk  says,  and  it 
wud  hae  been  an  awfu'  like  business  tae  luik  at 
a  gless  in  Marget's  gairden,  and  puir  Domsie 
standing  in  ahent  the  brier  bush  as  if  he  cud  never 
lift  his  heid  again.  Ye  may  get  shairper  fouk  in 
the  uptak',  but  ye  'ill  no  get  a  pairish  with  better 


A  SCHOLAR'S  FUNERAL.  45 

feelin's.  It  'ill  be  a  kind  o'  sateesfaction  tae  Mar- 
get  when  she  hears  o't.  She  was  aye  against 
tastin',  and  a'm  judgin'  her  tribble  has  ended  it  at 
beerials. " 

"Man,  it  was  hard  on  some  o'  yon  lads  the 
day,  but  there  wesna  ane  o'  them  made  a  mudge. 
I  keepit  my  eye  on  Posty,  but  he  never  lookit  the 
way  it  wes.  He's  a  drouthy  body,  but  he  hes 
his  feelin's,  hes  Posty." 

Before  the  Doctor  began  the  prayer,  Whinnie 
took  me  up  to  the  room. 

**  There's  twa  o'  Geordie's  College  freends  with 
Marget,  grand  scholars  a'm  telt,  and  there's 
anither  I  canna  weel  mak  oot.  He's  terrible  cast 
doon,  and  Marget  speaks  as  if  she  kent  him.'* 

It  was  a  low-roofed  room,  with  a  box  bed  and 
some  pieces  of  humble  furniture,  fit  only  for  a 
laboring  man.  But  the  choice  treasures  of  Greece 
and  Rome  lay  on  the  table,  and  on  a  shelf  beside 
the  bed  College  prizes  and  medals,  while  every- 
where were  the  roses  he  loved.  His  peasant 
mother  stood  beside  the  body  of  her  scholar  son, 
whose  hopes  and  thoughts  she  had  shared,  and 
through  the  window  came  the  bleating  of  distant 
sheep.  It  was  the  idyll  of  Scottish  University 
life. 

George's  friends  were  characteristic  men,  each 
of  his  own  type,  and  could  only  have  met  in  the 
commonwealth  of  letters.  One  was  of  an  ancient 
Scottish  house  which  had  fought  for  Mary  against 


46  gJOMSIB, 

the  Lords  of  the  Congregation,  followed  Prince 
Charlie  to  Culloden,  and  were  High  Church  and 
Tory  to  the  last  drop  of  their  blood.  Ludovic 
Gordon  left  Harrow  with  the  reputation  of  a  classic, 
and  had  expected  to  be  first  at  Edinboro'.  It  was 
Gordon,  in  fact,  that  Domsie  feared  in  the  great 
war,  but  he  proved  second  to  Marget  s  son,  and 
being  of  the  breed  of  Prince  Jonathan,  which  is 
the  same  the  world  over,  he  came  to  love  our. 
David  as  his  own  soul.  The  other,  a  dark  little 
man,  with  a  quick,  fiery  eye,  was  a  Western  Celt, 
who  had  worried  his  way  from  a  fishing  croft  m 
Barra  to  be  an  easy  first  in  Philosophy  at  Edinboro', 
and  George  and  Ronald  Maclean  were  as  brothers 
because  there  is  nothing  so  different  as  Scottish 
and  Highland  blood. 

"Maister  Gordon,"  said  Marget,  ''this  is 
George's  Homer,  and  he  bade  me  tell  you  that 
he  coonted  yir  freendship  ane  o'  the  gifts  o'  God. " 

For  a  brief  space  Gordon  was  silent,  and,  when 
he  spoke,  his  voice  sounded  strange  in  that  room. 

"Your  son  was  the  finest  scholar  of  my  time, 
and  a  very  perfect  gentleman.  He  was  also  my 
true  friend,  and  I  pray  God  to  console  his 
mother."  And  Ludovic  Gordon  bowed  low  over 
Marget's  worn  hand  as  if  she  had  been  a  queen. 

Marget  lifted  Plato,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that 
day  as  if  the  dignity  of  our  Lady  of  Sorrows  had 
fallen  upon  her. 

"This  is  the  bulk  George  chose  for  you,  Maister 


A  SCHOLAR'S  FUNERAL,  47 

Maclean,  for  he  aye  said  to  me  ye  hed  been  a 
prophet  aiid  shown  him  mony  deep  things." 

The  tears  sprang  to  the  Celt's  eyes. 

"It  wass  like  him  to  make  all  other  men  better 
than  himself,"  with  the  soft,  sad  Highland  accent ; 
*'andaproud  woman  you  are  to  hef  been  his 
mother. " 

The  third  man  waited  at  the  window  till  the 
scholars  left,  and  then  I  saw  he  was  none  of  that 
kind,  but  one  who  had  been  a  slave  of  sin  and 
now  was  free. 

''Andra  Chaumers,  George  wished  ye  tae  hev 
his  Bible,  and  he  expecks  ye  tae  keep  the  tryst. " 

*'God  helping  me,  I  will,"  said  Chalmers, 
hoarsely ;  and  from  the  garden  ascended  a 
voice,  "O  God,  who  art  a  very  present  help  in 
trouble." 

The  Doctor's  funeral  prayer  was  one  of  the 
glories  of  the  parish,  compelling  even  the  Free 
Kirk  to  reluctant  admiration,  although  they  hinted 
that  its  excellence  was  rather  of  the  letter  than 
the  spirit,  and  regarded  its  indiscriminate  charity 
with  suspicion.  It  opened  with  a  series  of  ex- 
tracts from  the  Psalms,  relieved  by  two  excursions 
into  the  minor  prophets,  and  led  up  to  a  sonorous 
recitation  of  the  problem  of  immortality  from  Job, 
with  its  triumphant  solution  in  the  peroration  of 
the  fifteenth  chapter  of  i  Corinthians.  Drum- 
tochty  men  held  their  breath  till  the  Doctor 
reached  the  crest  of  the  hill  (Hillocks  disgraced 


4S  DOMSIB, 

himself  once  by  dropping  his  staff  at  the  very 
moment  when  the  Doctor  was  passing  from  Job 
to  Paul),  and  then  we  relaxed  while  the  Doctor 
descended  to  local  detail.  It  was  understood 
that  it  took  twenty  years  to  bring  the  body  of  this 
prayer  to  perfection,  and  any  change  would  have 
been  detected  and  resented. 

The  Doctor  made  a  good  start,  and  had  already 
sighted  Job,  when  he  was  carried  out  of  his  course 
by  a  sudden  current,  and  began  to  speak  to  God 
about  Marget  and  her  son,  after  a  very  simple 
fashion  that  brought  a  lump  to  the  throat,  till  at 
last,  as  I  imagine,  the  sight  of  the  laddie  working 
at  his  Greek  in  the  study  of  a  winter  night  came 
up  before  him,  and  the  remnants  of  the  great 
prayer  melted  like  an  iceberg  in  the  Gulf  Stream. 

"  Lord,  hae  peety  upon  us,  for  we  a'  luved  him, 
and  we  were  a'  prood  o'  him." 

After  the  Doctor  said  **Amen"  with  majesty, 
one  used  to  look  at  his  neighbor,  and  the  other 
would  shut  his  eyes  and  shake  his  head,  mean- 
ing, "There's  no  use  asking  me,  for  it  simply 
can't  be  better  done  by  living  man."  This  time 
no  one  remembered  his  neighbor,  because  every 
eye  was  fixed  on  the  Doctor.  Drumtochty  was 
identifying  its  new  minister. 

''  It  may  be  that  I  hef  judged  him  hardly,"  said 
Lachlan  Campbell,  one  of  the  Free  Kirk  High- 
landers, and  our  St.  Dominic.  "I  shall  never 
again  deny  that  the  root  of  the   matter  is  in  the 


A  SCHOLAR'S  FUNERAL. 


49 


man,  although  much  choked  with  the  tares  of 
worldliness  and  Armniianism." 

*'  He  is  a  goot  man,  Lachlan,"  replied  Donald 
Menzies,  another  Celt,  and  he  was  our  St.  Francis, 
for  "  every  one  that  loveth  is  born  of  God." 

There  was  no  hearse  in  Drumtochty,  and  we 
carried  our  dead  by  relays  of  four,  who  waded 
every  stream  unless  more  than  knee  deep,  the  rest 
following  in  straggling,  picturesque  procession 
over  the  moor  and  across  the  stepping  stones. 
Before  we  started,  Marget  came  out  and  arranged 
George's  white  silken  hood  upon  the  coffin  with 
roses  in  its  folds. 

She  swept  us  into  one  brief  flush  of  gratitude, 
from  Domsie  to  Posty. 

**Neeburs,  ye  were  a'  his  freends,  and  he 
wanted  ye  tae  ken  hoo  yir  trust  wes  mickle  help 
tae  him  in  his  battle." 

There  was  a  stir  within  us,  and  it  came  to  birth 
m  Drumsheugh  of  all  men  : 

"jMarget  Hoo,  this  is  no  the  day  for  mony 
words,  but  there's  juist  ac  heart  in  Drumtochty, 
and  it's  sair. " 

No  one  spoke  to  Domsie  as  we  went  down  the 
cart  track,  with  the  ripe  corn  standing  on  either 
side,  but  he  beckoned  Chalmers  to  walk  with 
him. 

"Ye  hae  heard  him  speak  o'  me,  then,  Maister 
Jamieson  ? " 

"Ay,  oftentimes  and  he  said  once  that  ye  were 
4 


so 


DGMSIE, 


hard  driven,  but  that  ye  had  trampled  Satan  under 
yirfeet." 

**  He  didna  tell  ye  all,  for  if  it  hadna  been  for 
George  Howe  I  wudna  been  worth  callin'  a  man 
this  day.  One  night  when  he  was  workin'  hard 
for  his  honors  examination  and  his  disease  was 
heavy  upon  him,  puir  fellow,  he  sought  me  oot 
where  I  was,  and  wouldna  leave  till  I  cam'  wi 
him. 

"  'Go  home,'  I  said,  '  Howe  ;  it's  death  for  ye 
to  be  oot  in  this  sleet  and  cold.  Why  not  leave 
me  to  lie  in  the  bed  I  hae  made? ' 

"He  took  me  by  the  arm  into  a  passage.  I 
see  the  gaslicht  on  his  white  face,  and  the  shining 
o'  his  eyes. 

"  'Because  I  have  a  mother  .  .  .  .' 

"Dominie,  he  pulled  me  oot  o'  hell." 

"Me  tae,  Andra,  but  no  your  hell.  Ye  mind 
the  Roman  Triumph,  when  a  general  cam'  hame 
wi'  his  spoils.  Laddie,  we're  the  captives  that  go 
with  his  chariot  up  the  Capitol." 

Donald  Menzies  was  a  man  of  moods,  and  the 
Doctors  prayer  had  loosed  his  imagination  so 
that  he  saw  visions. 

"Look,"  said  he,  as  we  stood  on  a  ridge,  "I 
hef  seen  it  before  in  the  book  of  Joshua. " 

Below  the  bearers  had  crossed  a  bum  on  foot, 
and  were  ascending  the  slope  where  an  open 
space  of  deep  green  was  fringed  with  purple 
heather. 


A  SCHOLAR'S  FUNERAL,  51 

**The  ark  hass  gone  over  Jordan,  and  George 
will  have  come  into  the  Land  of  Promise." 

The  September  sunshine  glinted  on  the  white 
silk  George  won  with  his  blood,  and  fell  like  a 
benediction  on  the  two  figures  that  climbed  the 
hard  ascent  close  after  the  man  they  loved. 

Strangers  do  not  touch  our  dead  in  Drum- 
tochty,  but  the  eight  of  nearest  blood  lower  the 
body  into  the  grave.  The  order  of  precedence  is 
keenly  calculated,  and  the  loss  of  a  merited  cord 
can  never  be  forgiven.  Marget  had  arranged 
everything  with  Whinnie,  and  all  saw  the  fit- 
ness. His  father  took  the  head,  and  the  feet 
(next  in  honor)  he  gave  to  Domsie. 

**  Ye  maun  dae  it.  Marget  said  ye  were  o'  his 
ain  bliiid." 

On  the  right  side  the  cords  were  handed  to  the 
Doctor,  Gordon,  and  myself ;  and  on  the  left  to 
Drumsheugh,  Maclean,  and  Chalmers.  Domsie 
lifted  the  hood  for  Marget,  but  the  roses  he 
gently  placed  on  George's  name.  Then  with 
bent,  uncovered  heads,  and  in  unbroken  silence, 
we  buried  all  that  remained  of  our  scholar. 

We  always  waited  till  the  grave  was  filled  and 
the  turf  laid  down,  a  trying  quarter  of  an  hour. 
Ah  me  !  the  thud  of  the  spade  on  your  mother's 
grave  !  None  gave  any  sign  of  what  he  felt  save 
Drumsheugh,  whose  sordid  slough  had  slipped  off 
from  a  tender  heart,  and  Chalmers,  who  went 
behind   a   tombstone    and    sobbed  aloud.     Not 


52 


BO  MS  IE, 


even  Posty  asked  the  reason  so  much  as  by  a 
look,  and  Drumtochty,  as  it  passed,  made  as 
though  it  did  not  see.  But  I  marked  that  the 
Dominie  took  Chalmers  home,  and  walked  all  the 
way  with  him  to  Kildrummie  station  next  morn- 
ing. His  friends  erected  a  granite  cross  over 
George's  grave,  and  it  was  left  to  Domsie  to 
choose  the  inscription.  There  was  a  day  when 
it  would  have  been,  "Whom  the  gods  love  die 
young."  Since  then  Domsie  had  seen  the  king- 
dom of  God,  and  this  is  graven  where  the  roses 
bloomed  fresh  every  summer  for  twenty  years 
till  Marget  was  laid  with  her  son  : 

George  Howe,  M.A., 

Died  September  2 2d,  1869, 

Aged  21. 

"  They  shall  bring  the  glory  and  honor  of  the 
nations  into  it." 

It  was  a  late  November  day  when  I  went  to 
see  George's  memorial,  and  the  immortal  hope 
was  burning  low  in  my  heart  ;  but  as  I  stood 
before  that  cross,  the  sun  struggled  from  behind 
a  black  watery  bank  of  cloud,  and  picked  out 
every  letter  ®f  the  Apocalypse  in  gold. 


A  HIGHLAND   MYSTIC 


WHAT  EYE  HATH  NOT  SEEN. 

Strange  ministers  who  came  to  assist  at  the 
Free  Kirk  Sacrament  were  much  impressed  with 
the  elders,  and  never  forgot  the  transfiguration  of 
Donald  Menzies,  which  used  to  begin  about  the 
middle  of  the  "action  "  sermon,  and  was  com- 
pleted at  the  singing  of  the  last  Psalm.  Once 
there  was  no  glory,  because  the  minister,  being 
still  young,  expounded  a  new  theory  of  the  atone- 
ment of  German  manufacture,  and  Donald's  face 
was  piteous  to  behold.  It  haunted  the  minister 
for  months,  and  brought  to  confusion  a  promis- 
ing course  of  sermons  on  the  contribution  of 
Hegel  to  Christian  thought.  Donald  never  laid 
the  blame  of  such  calamities  on  the  preacher,  but 
accepted  them  as  a  just  judgment  on  his  blind- 
ness of  heart. 

**We  hef  had  the  open  vision,"  Donald  ex- 
plained to  his  friend  Lachlan  Campbell,  who 
distributed  the  responsibility  in  another  fashion, 
**  and  we  would  not  see — so  the  veil  hass  fallen/* 

Donald  sat    before  the  pulpit  and  filled  the 

55 


56  A  HIGHLAND  MYSTIC. 

hearts  of  nervous  probationers  with  dismay,  not 
because  his  face  was  critical,  but  because  it 
seemed  non-conducting,  upon  which  their  best 
passages  would  break  like  spray  against  a  rock. 
It  was  by  nature  the  dullest  you  ever  saw,  with 
hair  descending  low  upon  the  forehead,  and  pre- 
posterous whiskers  dominating  everything  that 
remained,  except  a  heavy  mouth  and  brown, 
lack-lustre  eyes.  For  a  while  Donald  crouched 
in  the  corner  of  the  pew,  his  head  sunk  on  his 
breast,  a  very  picture  of  utter  hopelessness.  But 
as  the  Evangel  began  to  play  round  his  heart, 
he  would  fix  the  preacher  with  rapid,  wistful 
glances,  as  of  one  who  had  awaked  but  hardly 
dared  believe  such  things  could  be  true.  Sud- 
denly a  sigh  pervaded  six  pews,  a  kind  of  gentle 
breath  of  penitence,  faith,  love,  and  hope  min- 
gled together  like  the  incense  of  the  sanctuary,  and 
Donald  lifted  up  his  head.  His  eyes  are  now 
aflame,  and  those  sullen  lips  are  refining  into 
curves  of  tenderness.  From  the  manse  pew  I 
watch  keenly,  for  at  any  moment  a  wonderful 
sight  may  be  seen.  A  radiant  smile  will  pass 
from  his  lips  to  his  eyes  and  spread  over  his  face, 
as  when  the  sun  shines  on  a  fallow  field  and  the 
rough  furrows  melt  into  warmth  and  beauty. 
Donald's  gaze  is  now  fixed  on  a  window  above 
the  preacher's  head,  for  on  these  great  days  thai" 
window  is  to  him  as  the  gate  of  heaven.  All  I 
could  see  would  be  a  bit  of  blue,  and  the  fretted 


WHA T  EYE  I/A TH  NO T  SEEN,  57 

sunlight  through  the  swaying  branches  of  an  old 
plane  tree.  But  Donald  has  seen  his  Lord  hang- 
ing upon  the  Cross  for  him,  and  the  New  Jeru- 
salem descending  like  a  bride  adorned  for  her 
husband  more  plainly  than  if  Perugino's  great 
Crucifixion,  with  the  kneeling  saints,  and  An- 
gelico's  Outer  Court  of  Heaven,  with  the  dancing 
angels,  had  been  hung  in  our  little  Free  Kirk. 
When  he  went  down  the  aisle  with  the  flagon  in 
the  Sacrament,  he  walked  as  one  in  a  dream,  and 
wist  not  that  his  face  shone. 

There  was  an  interval  after  the  Sacrament, 
when  the  stranger  was  sent  to  his  room  with  light 
refreshments,  to  prepare  himself  for  the  evening, 
and  the  elders  dined  with  the  minister.  Before 
the  introduction  of  the  Highlanders  conversation 
had  an  easy  play  within  recognized  limits,  and 
was  always  opened  by  Burnbrae,  who  had  come 
out  in  '43,  and  was  understood  to  have  read  the 
Confession  of  Faith. 

"Ye  gave  us  a  grawnd  discoorse  this  mornin,' 
sir,  baith  instructive  and  edifyin' ;  we  were  juist 
sayin'  comin'  up  the  gairden  that  ye  were  never 
heard  to  mair  advantage." 

The  minister  was  much  relieved,  because  he 
had  not  been  hopeful  during  the  week,  and  was 
still  dissatisfied,  as  he  explained  at  length,  with 
the  passage  on  the  Colossian  heresy. 

When  these  doubts  had  been  cleared  up,  Burn- 
brae did  his   best  by  the  minister  upstairs,  who 


58  A  HIGHLAND  MYSTIC, 

had  submitted  himself  to  the  severe  test  of  table 
addresses. 

**Yon  were  verra  suitable  words  at  the  second 
table  ;  he's  a  speeritually  minded  man,  Maister 
Cosh,  and  has  the  richt  sough." 

Or  at  the  worst,  when  Burnbrae's  courage  had 
failed  : 

"  Maister  McKittrick  had  a  fine  text  afore  the 
table.  I  aye  like  tae  see  a  man  gangtae  the  Song 
o'  Solomon  on  the  Sacrament  Sabbath.  A'  mind 
Dr.  Guthrie  on  that  verra  subject  twenty  years 
syne." 

Having  paid  its  religious  dues,  conversation 
was  now  allowed  some  freedom,  and  it  was  won- 
derful how  many  things  could  be  touched  on, 
always  from  a  sacramental  standpoint. 

**  We've  been  awfu'  favored  wi'  weather  the  day, 
and  ought  to  be  thankfu'.  Gin  it  hads  on  like 
this  I  wudna  say  but  th'ill  be  a  gude  hairst. 
That's  a  fine  pucklie  aits  ye  hae  in  the  laigh  park, 
Burn  brae." 

''A'veseen  waur;  they're  fillin' no  that  bad. 
I  wes  juist  thinkin'  as  I  cam  to  the  Kirk  that  there 
wes  aits  in  that  field  the  Sacrament  after  the  Dis- 
ruption." 

"  Did  ye  notice  that  Rachel  Skene  sat  in  her 
seat  through  the  tables?  Says  I,  'Are  ye  no 
gain  forrit,  IMistiess  Skene,  or  hae  ye  lost  yir 
token.?'  Na  na,'  says  she,  *  ma  token's  safe  in 
xna  handkerchief;  but  I  cudna  get  to  Kirk  yester- 


WHA T  EYE  HA  TH  NO T  SEEN. 


59 


day,  and  I  never  went  forrit  withoot  maSaiturday 
yet,  and  I'm  no  to  begin  noo.'  " 

"She  was  aye  a  richt-thinkin'  woman,  Rachel, 
there's  nae  mistake  o'  that ;  a'  wonder  hoo  her 
son  is  gettin'  on  wi'  that  fairm  he's  takin' ;  a'  doot 
it's  rack-rented." 

It  was  an  honest,  satisfying  conversation,  and 
reminded  one  of  the  parish  of  Drumtochty,  being 
both  quoad  sacra  and  quoad  civilia. 

When  the  Highlanders  came  in,  Burnbrae  was 
deposed  after  one  encounter,  and  the  minister 
was  reduced  to  state  of  timid  suggestion.  There 
were  days  whci  they  would  not  speak  one  word, 
and  were  understood  to  be  lost  in  meditation  ;  on 
others  they  brok  i  on  any  conversation  that 
was  going  from  levels  beyond  the  imagination 
of  Drumtochty.  Had  this  happened  in  the  Auld 
Manse,  Drumsheugh  would  have  taken  for  granted 
that  Donald  was  "  feehng  sober"  (ill),  and  recom- 
mended the  bottle  which  cured  him  of  "  a  hoast  " 
(cough)  in  the  fifties.  But  the  Free  Kirk  had 
been  taught  that  the  Highlanders  were  unap- 
proachable in  spiritual  attainments,  and  even 
Burnbrae  took  his  discipline  meekly. 

**  It  wes  a  mercy  the  mune  changed  last  week, 
Maister  Menzies,  or  a'm  thinkin'  it  bed  been  a 
weet  sacrament." 

Donald  came  out  of  a  maze,  where  he  had  been 
wandering  in  great  peace. 

**I  wass  not  hearing  that  the  moon  had  any- 


Co  A  HIGHLAND  MYSTIC, 

thing  to  do  in  the  matter.  Oh  no,  but  he  wass 
bound  hand  and  foot  by  a  mighty  man." 

"Wha  was  bund?  A'm  no  juist  followin'  ye, 
Maister  Menzies." 

"The  Prince  of  the  powe  of  the  air.  Oh  yes, 
and  he  shall  not  be  loosed  till  the  occasion  be 
over.  I  hef  had  a  sign."  After  which  conver- 
sation on  the  weather  languished. 

Perhaps  the  minister  fared  worse  in  an  attempt 
to  extract  a  certificate  of  efficiency  fr  m  Lachlan 
Campbell  in  favor  of  a  rhetori  al  y       g  preacher. 

"A  fery  nice  speaker,  nd  wei-  pie  d  with 
himself.  But  I  would  be  thinking,  wh  h:  wass 
giving  his  images.  Oh  yes,  I  woul  be  thinking. 
There  was  a  laddie  feeshing  in  th  burn  before 
my  house,  and  a  fery  pretty  laddie  he  wass.  He 
had  a  rod  and  a  strinor,  an  he  thr  w  his  line 
beautiful.  It  wass  a  great  ;  ety  h.  had  no  hook, 
for  it  iss  a  want,  and  you  do  not  catch  many  fish 
without  a  hook.  But  I  shall  be  glad  that  you 
are  pleased,  sir,  and  all  the  elders." 

These  were  only  passing  incidents,  and  left  no 
trace,  but  the  rebuke  Donald  gave  to  Burnbrae 
will  be  told  while  an  elder  lives.  One  of  the  last 
of  the  old  mystical  school,  which  trace  their 
descent  from  Samuel  Rutherford,  had  described 
the  great  mystery  of  our  Faith  with  such  insight 
and  pathos,  that  Donald  had  stood  by  the  table 
weeping  gently,  and  found  himself  afterwards  in 
the  manse,  he  knew  not  how. 


WIIA T  EYE  HA TH  NOT  SEEN.  6l 

The  silence  was  more  than  could  be  borne, 
and  his  former  responsibility  fell  on  Burnbrae. 

"It  wes  wonnerful,  and  I  canna  mind  hearing 
the  like  o'  yon  at  the  tables  ;  but  I  wes  sorry  to 
see  the  Doctor  sae  failed.  He  wes  bent  twa  fad  ; 
a'  doot  it's  a  titch  o'  rheumatism,  or  maybe  lum- 
bago." 

Johannine  men  are  subject  to  sudden  flashes  of 
anger,  and  Donald  blazed. 

"Bent  down  with  rheumatism,  iss  that  what 
you  say?  Oh  yes,  it  will  be  rheumatism.  Hass 
the  si^ht  of  your  eyes  left  you,  and  hef  you  no 
discernment  ?  Did  ye  not  see  that  he  was  bowed 
to  the  very  table  with  the  power  of  the  Word .?  for 
it  was  a  fire  in  his  bones,  and  he  was  baptized 
with  the  Holy  Ghost." 

When  the  elders  gathered  in  the  vestry,  the 
minister  asked  what  time  the  preacher  might 
have  for  his  evening  sermon,  and  Donald  again 
burst  forth  : 

"  I  am  told  that  in  towns  the  Gospel  goes  by 
minutes,  like  the  trains  at  the  stations  ;  but  there 
iss  no  time-table  here,  for  we  shall  wait  till  the 
sun  goes  down  to  hear  all  things  God  will  be 
sending  by  His  servant." 

Good  memories  differ  about  the  text  that  Sacra- 
ment evening,  and  the  length  of  the  sermon,  but 
all  hold  as  a  treasure  forever  what  happened 
when  the  book  was  closed.  The  people  were 
hushed  into  a  quiet  that  might  be  felt,  and  the 


62  A  HIGHLAXD  MYSTIC. 

old  man,  swayed  by  the  spirit  of  the  Prophets, 
beg-an  to  repeat  the  blessings  and  curses  in  the 
Bible  between  Genesis  and  Revelation,  and  after 
each  pair  he  cried  with  heart-piercing-  voice, 
"Choose  this  day  which  ye  will  take,"  till  Donald 
could  contain  himself  no  longer. 

**  Here  iss  the  man  who  hass  deserved  all  the 
curses,  and  here  iss  the  man  who  choo.ies  all  the 
blessings.'' 

Our  fathers  had  no  turn  for  sensation,  but  they 
had  an  unerring  sense  of  a  spiritual  situation. 
The  preacher  paused  for  five  seconds,  while  no 
man  could  breathe,  and  then  lifting  up  his  hand 
to  Heaven  he  said,  with  an  indescribable  author- 
ity and  tenderness,  "The  Lord  fulfil  the  desire  of 
your  heart  both  in  this  world  and  in  that  which 
is  to  come." 

Then  the  congregation  sang,  after  the  ancient 
custom  of  our  parts, 

"  Now  blessed  be  the  Lord  our  God, 
The  God  of  Israel," 

and  Donald's  face  was  one  glory,  because  he  saw 
in  the  soft  evening  light  of  the  upper  window  the 
angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending  upon 
the  Son  of  man. 

It  was  after  this  that  the  Free  Kirk  ministvir  oc- 
cupied six  months  in  proving  that  Closes  did  not 
write  Deuteronomy,  and  Lachlan  was  trying  for 
the  same  period  to  have  the  minister  removed 


WHA T  EYE  HA  TH  NO T  SEEN,  63 

from  Drumtochty.  Donald,  deprived  by  one 
stroke  of  both  his  friends,  fell  back  on  me,  and 
told  me  many  things  I  loved  to  hear,  although 
they  were  beyond  my  comprehension. 

**  It  wass  not  always  so  with  me  as  it  iss  this 
day,  for  I  once  had  no  ear  for  God's  voice,  and 
my  eyes  were  holden  that  I  saw  not  the  spiritual 
world.  But  sore  sickness  came  upon  me,  and  I 
wass  nigh  unto  death,  and  my  soul  awoke  within 
me  and  began  to  cry  like  a  child  for  its  mother. 
All  my  days  I  had  lived  on  Loch  Tay,  and  now  I 
thought  of  the  other  country  into  which  I  would 
hef  to  be  going,  where  I  had  no  nest,  and  my 
soul  would  be  driven  to  and  fro  in  the  darkness 
as  a  bird  on  the  moor  of  Rannoch. 

"Janet  sent  for  the  minister,  and  he  was  fery 
kind,  and  he  spoke  about  my  siekness  and  my 
farm,  and  I  said  nothing.  For  I  wass  hoping  he 
would  tell  me  what  I  was  to  do  for  my  soul. 
But  he  began  upon  the  sheep  market  at  Amulree, 
and  I  knew  he  wass  also  in  the  dark.  After  he 
left  I  turned  my  face  to  the  wall  and  wept. 

**Next  morning  wass  the  Sabbath,  and  I  said 
to  Janet  : 

**  '  Wrap  me  in  my  plaid,  and  put  me  in  a  cart, 
and  take  me  to  Aberfeldy.'  'And  what  will  ye 
be  doing  at  Aberfeldy  ?  and  you  will  die  on  the 
road.'  'There  iss,'  said  I,  'a  man  there  who 
knows  the  way  of  the  soul,  and  it  iss  better  to 
die  with  my  face  to  the  light' 


04  ^  HIGHLAND  MYSTIC. 

**They  set  me  in  a  corner  of  the  church  where 
I  wass  thinking  no  man  could  see  me,  and  I  cried 
in  my  heart  without  ceasing,  'Lord,  send  me — 
send  me  a  word  from  Thy  mouth.' 

"When  the  minister  came  into  the  pulpit  he 
gave  me  a  strange  look,  and  this  wass  his  text, 
*  Loose  him  and  let  him  go.' 

"As  he  preached  I  knew  I  wass  Lazurus,  with 
the  darkness  of  the  grave  around  me,  and  my 
soul  straitly  bound.  I  could  do  nothing,  but  I 
was  longing  with  all  my  strength. 

"Then  the  minister  stopped,  and  he  said  : 

"  *  There  iss  a  man  in  this  church,  and  he  will 
know  himself  who  it  iss.  When  I  came  in  this 
morning  I  saw  a  shadow  on  his  face,  and  I  knew 
not  whether  it  was  the  wing  of  the  Angel  of  Life 
or  the  Angel  of  Death  passing  over  him,  but  the 
Lord  has  made  it  plain  to  me,  and  I  see  the  silver 
feathers  of  the  Angel  of  the  Covenant,  and  this 
shall  be  a  sign  unto  that  man,  **  Loose  him  and 
let  him  go."' 

"While  he  wass  still  speaking  I  felt  my  soul 
carried  out  into  the  light  of  God's  face,  and  my 
grave  clothes  were  taken  off  one  by  one  as  Janet 
would  unwind  my  plaid,  and  I  stood  a  living  man 
before  Christ. 

"  It  wass  a  sweet  June  day  as  we  drove  home, 
and  I  lay  in  sunshine,  and  every  bird  that  sang, 
and  the  burnies  by  the  roadside,  and  the  rustling 
of  the  birch  leaves  in  the  wind — oh  yes,  and  the 


WHA T  EYE  HA TH  NO T  SEEN.  65 

sound  of  the  horse's  feet  were  saying,  'Loose  him 
and  let  him  go. ' 

"Loch  Tay  looked  black  angry  as  we  came  by 
its  side  in  the  morning,  and  I  said  to  Janet  : 

"  *  It  is  the  Dead  Sea,  and  I  shall  be  as  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah ' ;  but  in  the  evening  it  wass  as  a 
sea  of  glass  mingled  with  fire,  and  I  heard  the 
song  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb  sweeping  over  the 
Loch,  but  this  wass  still  the  sweetest  word  to  me, 
*  Loose  him  and  let  him  go. '  " 
5 


11 

AGAINST  PRINCIPALITIES  AND  POWERS. 

The  powers  of  darkness  had  been  making  a 
dead  set  upon  Donald  all  winter,  and  towards 
spring  he  began  to  lose  hope.  He  came  to  the 
Cottage  once  a  week  with  news  from  the  seat  of 
war,  and  I  could  distinguish  three  zones  of  de- 
pression. Within  the  first  he  bewailed  his  invet- 
erate attachment  to  this  world,  and  his  absolute 
indifference  to  spiritual  things,  and  was  content 
to  describe  himself  as  Achan.  The  sign  that  he 
had  entered  the  second  was  a  recurring  reference 
to  apostacy,  and  then  you  had  the  melancholy 
satisfaction  of  meeting  the  living  representative 
of  Simon  Peter.  When  he  passed  into  the  last 
zone  of  the  Purgatorio,  Donald  was  beyond 
speech,  and  simply  allowed  one  to  gather  from 
allusions  to  thirty  pieces  of  silver  that  he  was 
Judas  Iscariot. 

So  long  as  it  was  only  Achan  or  Simon  Peter 
that  came  to  sit  with  me,  one  was  not  gravely 
concerned,  but  Judas  Iscariot  meant  that  Donald 
had  entered  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow. 

He  made  a  spirited  rally  at  the  Winter  Sacra- 
66 


AGAINST  PRINCIPALITIES  AND  POWERS.    67 

ment,  and  distinguished  himself  greatly  on  the 
evening  of  the  Fast  day.  Being  asked  to  pray, 
as  a  recognition  of  comparative  cheerfulness, 
Donald  continued  for  five  and  twenty  minutes, 
and  unfolded  the  vi^ords  of  the  Devil  in  such 
minute  and  vivid  detail  that  Burnbrae  talks  about 
it  to  this  day,  and  Lachlan  Campbell,  although  an 
expert  in  this  department,  confessed  astonishment. 
It  was  a  mighty  wrestle,  and  it  was  perhaps  nat- 
ural that  Donald  should  groan  heavily  at  regular 
intervals,  and  acquaint  the  meeting  how  the 
conflict  went,  but  the  younger  people  were  much 
shaken,  and  the  edification  even  of  the  serious 
was  not  without  reserve. 

While  Donald  still  lingered  on  the  field  of  battle 
to  gather  the  spoils  and  guard  against  any  sudden 
return  of  the  enemy,  the  elders  had  a  hurried  con- 
sultation in  the  vestry,  and  Burnbrae  put  the  posi- 
tion with  admirable  force. 

*'  Naebody  can  deny  that  it  was  a  maist  ex- 
traordinary prayer,  and  it  passes  me  hoo  he  kens 
sae  muckle  aboot  the  Deevil.  In  fac'  it's  a  pree- 
vilege  tae  hae  sic  an  experienced  hand  among  us, 
and  I  wudna  offend  Donald  Menzies  foronything. 
But  yon  groanin'  wes  a  wee  thingie  discomposin', 
and  when  he  said,  kind  o'  confidential,  *  He's 
losing  his  grup',  ma  ain  fouk  cudna  keep  their 
cootenance.  Weel,  I  wes  thinkin'  that  the  best 
plan  wud  be  for  Maister  Campbell  juist  tae  give 
a  bit  advice  and  tell  Donald  that  we're  thankfu* 


68  A  HIGHLAND  MYSTIC. 

to  hear  him  at  the  meeting,  and  michty  lifted  wi' 
his  peteetions,  but  it  wud  be  an  obleegation  gin 
he  wud  leave  oot  the  groans  and  tell  us  aifter- 
wards  what  wes  gaein'  on,  maybe  in  the  Session." 

Lachlan  accepted  his  commission  with  quite 
unusual  diffidence,  and  offered  a  very  free  trans- 
lation on  the  way  home. 

"Itwass  a  mercy  to  hef  you  at  the  meeting 
this  night,  Donald  Menzies,  for  I  saw  that  Satan 
had  come  in  great  strength,  and  it  iss  not  every 
man  that  can  withstand  him.  But  you  will  not 
be  ignorant  of  his  devices  ;  oh  no,  you  will  be 
knowing  them  fery  well.  Satan  had  not  much  to 
say  before  the  prayer  wass  done,  and  I  will  not 
be  expecting  to  see  him  again  at  this  occasion. 
It  wass  the  elders  said,  ''Donald  Menzies  hass 
trampled  Satan  under  foot."  Oh  yes,  and  fery 
glad  men  they  were,  for  it  iss  not  given  to  them. 
But  I  would  be  thinking  iss  it  good  to  let  the 
Devil  hear  you  groaning  in  the  battle,  and  I  would 
be  wishing  that  you  had  kept  all  your  groans  and 
given  them  to  me  on  the  road." 

**  Iss  it  the  groans  you  are  not  liking.?"  retorted 
Donald,  stung  by  this  unexpected  criticism. 
"And  what  iss  wrong  with  groaning.?  But  I  hef 
the  Scripture,  and  I  will  not  be  caring  what  you 
say,  Lachlan  Campbell. " 

"  If  you  hef  a  warrant  for  groaning,  it  iss  this 
man  that  will  be  glad  to  hear  it,  for  I  am  not 
remembering  that  passage." 


AGAINST  PRINCIPALITIES  AND  POWERS.    69 

*'  Maybe  you  hef  not  read  *  Maketh  intercession 
with  groanings,'  but  it  iss  a  fery  good  Scripture, 
and  it  iss  in  my  Bible  " 

"All  Scripture  iss  good,  Donald  Menzies,  but 
it  iss  not  lawful  to  divide  Scripture,  and  it  will 
read  in  my  Bible,  *  groanings  which  cannot  be 
uttered,'  and  I  wass  saying  this  would  be  the  best 
way  with  your  groans." 

Donald  came  in  to  tell  me  how  his  companion 
in  arms  had  treated  him,  and  was  still  sore. 

**  He  iss  in  the  bondage  of  the  letter  these  days, 
for  he  will  be  always  talking  about  Moses  with 
the  minister,  and  I  am  not  hearing  that  iss  good 
for  the  soul." 

If  even  Lachlan  could  not  attain  to  Donald,  it 
was  perhaps  no  discredit  that  the  Drumtochty 
mind  was  at  times  hopelessly  perplexed. 

"He's  a  gude  cratur  and  terrible  gifted  in 
prayer,"  Netherton  explained  to  Burnbrae  after  a 
prayer  meeting,  when  Donald  had  temporarily 
abandoned  Satan  and  given  himself  to  autobi- 
ography, "but  yon  wcsna  a  verra  ceevil  way  to 
speak  aboot  his  father  and  mither." 

"  A'  doot  yir  imaginin,  Netherton.  Donald 
never  mentioned  his  fouk  the  nicht,  and  its  no 
likely  he  wud  in  the  prayer-meeting." 

"There's  nae  imaginin' aboot  it ;  a' heard  him 
Wi'  ma  ain  ears  say  twice,  'My  father  was  an 
Amorite,  and  my  mother  a  Hittite.'  I'll  take  my 
aith  on  it.     Noo,  a'  dinna  ken  Donald's  forbears 


yo  A  HIGHLAND  MYSTIC, 

masel,  for  he's  frae  Tayside,  but  supposin*  they 
were  as  bad  as  bad  cud  be,  it's  no  for  him  to 
blacken  his  ain  blood,  and  him  an  Elder." 

"Toots,  Netherton,  yir  aff  it  a'  thegither.  Div 
ye  no  see  yon's  Bible  langidge  oot  o'  a  Prophet, 
or  maybe  Kings,  and  Donald  wes  usin't  in  a 
feegurative  capaucity  ? " 

"Feegurative  or  no  feegurative,  Burn  brae,  it 
disna  maitter  ;  it's  a  peetifu'  job  howking  (digging) 
thro'  the  Bible  for  ill  words  tae  misca  yir  fouk  wi' 
gfore  the  public." 

Burnbrae  gave  up  the  contest  in  despair,  feeling 
himself  that  Old  Testament  allusions  were  risky, 
and  that  Donald's  quotation  was  less  than  felici- 
tous. 

Donald's  prayers  were  not  known  outside  the 
Free  Kirk  circle,  but  his  encounters  with  the  evil 
one  were  public  property,  and  caused  a  general 
shudder.  Drumtochty  was  never  sure  who  might 
not  be  listening,  and  considered  that  it  was  safer 
not  to  meddle  with  certain  nameless  people.  But 
Donald  waged  an  open  warfare  in  every  corner  of 
the  parish,  in  the  Kirk,  by  the  wayside,  in  his 
house,  on  the  road  to  market,  and  was  ready  to 
give  any  one  the  benefit  of  his  experiences. 

"Donald  Menzies  is  in  yonder,"  said  Hillocks, 
pointing  to  the  smithy,  whose  fire  sent  fitful 
gleams  across  the  dark  road,  "and  he's  carry  in' 
on  maist  fearsome.  Ye  wud  think  tae  hear  hinri 
speak  that  auld  Hornie  wes  gaein'  louse  in  the 


A  GAINST  PRINCIPALITIES  AND  PO  WE  PS.    7 1 

parish ;  it  sent  a  gfrue  (shiver)  doon  ma  back. 
Faigs,  it's  no  cannie  to  be  muckle  wi'  the  body, 
for  the  Deil  and  Donald  seem  never  separate. 
Hear  him  noo,  hear  him." 

*'Ohyes/'  said  Donald,  addressing  the  smith 
and  two  horror-stricken  ploiighn  en,  "1  hef  seen 
him,  and  he  hass  withstood  me  on  the  road.  It 
wass  late,  and  I  wass  thinking  on  the  shepherd 
and  the  sheep,  and  Satan  will  come  out  from  the 
wood  below  Hillocks'  farm-house  (*Gude  pre- 
serve us,'  from  Hillocks)  and  say,  'That  word 
is  not  for  you,  Donald  Men  es."  But  I  wass 
strong  that  night,  and  I  said,  •  Neither  shall  any 
pluck  them  out  of  my  hand,'  and  he  will  not  wait 
long  atter  that,  oh  no,  and  I  did  not  follow  him 
into  the  wood." 

The  smith,  released  by  the  conclusion  of  the 
tale,  blew  a  mighty  blast,  and  the  fire  burst  into 
a  red  blaze,  throwing  into  relief  the  black  figure 
of  the  smith  and  the  white  faces  of  the  plough- 
men ;  glancing  from  the  teeth  of  harrows,  and 
the  blades  of  scythes,  and  the  cruel  knives  of 
reaping  machines,  and  from  instruments  with 
triple  prongs  ;  and  lighting  up  with  a  hideous 
glare  the  black  sooty  recesses  of  the  smithy. 

''Keep's  a',"  whispered  Hillocks,  clutching  my 
arm,  "it's  little  better  than  the  ill  place.  I  wish 
to  gudeness  I  was  safe  in  ma  ain  hoose." 

These  were  only  indecisive  skirmishes,  for  one 
evening  Donald  came  to  my  den  with  despair 


72  A  HIGHLAND  MYSTIC. 

written  on  every  feature,  and  I  knew  that  fighting 
had  begun  at  the  centre,  and  that  he  was  worsted. 

It  was  half  an  hour  before  he  became  articulate, 
during  which  time  he  sighed  as  if  the  end  of  all 
things  had  come,  and  I  caught  the  word  scape- 
goat twice,  but  at  last  he  told  me  that  he  had 
resigned  his  eldership,  and  would  absent  himself 
in  future  from  the  Free  Kirk. 

"It  hass  been  a  weary  winter  when  minister 
and  people  hef  gone  into  captivity,  and  on 
Sabbath  the  word  wass  taken  altogether  from  the 
minister's  mouth,  and  he  spake  a  language  which 
we  understood  not  [it  was  the  first  of  three 
sermons  on  the  Hexateuch,  and  had  treated  of  the 
Jehovistic  and  Elohistic  documents  with  much 
learning],  and  I  will  be  asking  all  the  way  back, 
*  Iss  it  I  ? '     *  Iss  it  I  ?  ' 

"Oh  yes,  and  when  I  opened  my  Bible  this  iss 
the  word  I  will  see,  'That  thou  doest  do  quickly,' 
and  I  knew  it  wass  my  sins  that  had  brought 
great  judgments  on  the  people,  and  turned  the 
minister  into  a  man  of  stammering  lips  and 
another  tongue. 

"  It  wass  a  mercy  that  the  roof  did  not  fall  and 
bury  all  the  people  with  me ;  but  we  will  not  be 
tempting  the  Almighty,  for  I  hef  gone  outside, 
and  now  there  will  be  peace  and  blessing." 

When  we  left  the  lighted  room  and  stood  on 
the  doorstep,  Donald  pointed  to  the  darkness. 
•'There  iss  no  star,  and  you  will  be  remembering 


AGAINST  PRINCIPALITIES  AND  POWERS.    73 

what  John  saw  when  the  door  opened  and  Judas 
went  out.  '  It  wass  night ' — oh  yes,  it  iss  night 
for  me,  but  it  will  be  light  for  them." 

As  weeks  went  past,  and  Donald  was  seen 
neither  at  Kirk  nor  market,  my  heart  went  out  to 
the  lonely  man  in  his  soul  conflict,  and,  although 
there  was  no  help  in  me,  I  went  to  ask  how  it 
fared  with  him.  After  the  footpath  disentangled 
itself  from  the  pine  woods  and  crossed  the  burn 
by  two  fir  trees  nailed  together,  it  climbed  a  steep 
ascent  to  Donald's  house,  but  I  had  barely 
touched  the  foot,  when  I  saw  him  descending, 
his  head  in  the  air,  and  his  face  shining.  Before 
any  words  passed,  I  knew  that  the  battle  had 
been  fought  and  won. 

**It  wass  last  night,  and  I  will  be  coming  to 
tell  you.  Satan  hass  gone  like  darkness  when 
the  sun  ariseth,  and  I  hef  been  delivered." 

There  are  stories  one  cannot  hear  sitting,  and 
so  we  paced  the  meadow  below,  rich  in  prim- 
roses, with  a  sloping  bank  of  gorse  behind  us, 
and  the  pines  before  us,  and  the  water  breaking 
over  the  stones  at  our  feet. 

"  It  iss  three  weeks  since  I  saw  you,  and  all  that 
time  I  hef  been  wandering  on  the  hill  by  day, 
and  lying  in  the  barn  at  night,  for  it  wass  not 
good  to  be  with  people,  and  Satan  wass  always 
saying  tome,  Judas  went  to  'his  own  place.' 
My  dog  will  lay  his  head  on  my  knee,  and  be 
sorry   for   me,    and  the   dumb   animals   will   be 


74  A  HIGHLAND  MYSTIC, 

looking  at  me  out  of  their  great  eyes,  and  be 
moaning. 

**The  lads  are  good  singers,  and  there  wass 
always  a  sound  of  Psalms  on  the  farm,  oh  yes, 
and  it  was  pleasant  to  come  from  the  market  and 
hear  the  Psalms  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  It  wass 
like  going  up  to  Jerusalem.  But  there  would  be 
no  Psalms  these  days,  for  the  lads  could  not  sing 
when  their  father's  soul  wass  going  down  into 
the  pit. 

*'0h  no,  and  there  wass  no  prayer  last  night, 
but  I  told  the  lads  to  go  to  bed,  and  I  lay  down 
before  the  fire  to  wrestle  once  more  before  I 
perished. 

"Janet  will  offer  this  word  and  the  other,  and 
I  will  be  trying  them  all,  but  Satan  wass  tearing 
them  away  as  quick  as  I  could  speak,  and  he 
always  said,  'his  own  place.' 

**  There  iss  no  hope  for  me,  I  cried,  but  it  iss  a 
mercy  that  you  and  the  lads  will  be  safe  in  the 
City,  and  maybe  the  Lord  will  let  me  see  you  all 
through  the  gate.  And  that  w^ass  lifting  me,  but 
then  I  will  hear  *'  his  ovvm  place,'  '  his  own  place,' 
and  my  heart  began  to  fail,  and  I  wass  nigh  to 
despair. 

**Then  I  heard  a  voice,  oh  yes,  as  plain  as  you 
are  hearing  me,  '  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  His 
Son,  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin.'  It  was  like  a 
gream  from  the  Mercy-seat,  but  I  would  be  wait- 
ing to  see  whether  Satan  had  any  answer,  and 


\ 


A  GAINST  PRINCIPALITIES  AND  PO  WERS.     7  5 

my  heart  was  standing  still.  But  there  wass  no 
word  from  him,  not  one  word.  Then  I  leaped  to 
my  feet  and  cried,  'Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan,' 
and  I  \vill  look  round,  and  there  wass  no  one  to 
be  seen  but  Janet  in  her  chair,  with  the  tears  on 
her  cheeks,  and  she  wass  saying-,  'Thanks  be  to 
God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ' 

"The  lads  were  not  sleeping  fery  sound  when 
their  father  was  fighting  for  his  life,  oh  no,  and  I 
am  not  saying  but  maybe  they  would  be  praying. 
It  wass  not  fery  long  before  they  came  down,  and 
Hamish  will  be  looking  at  my  face,  and  then  he 
will  get  the  books,  and  this  iss  the  Psalm  we 
sang — 

"  I  love  the  Lord,  because  my  voice 
And  prayers  He  did  hear. 
I,  while  I  live,  will  call  on  Him, 
Who  bowed  to  me  His  ear. 

God  merciful  and  righteous  is, 

Yea,  gracious  is  our  Lord ; 
God  saves  the  meek  ;  I  was  brought  low, 

He  did  me  help  afford." 

This  was  the  victory  of  Donald  Menzies,  and 
on  reaching  home  I  marked  that  the  early  roses 
were  beginning  to  bloom  over  the  door  through 
which  Donald  had  gone  out  into  the  darkness. 


HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON. 


HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON. 

He  was  an  ingenuous  lad,  with  the  callow 
simplicity  of  a  theological  college  still  untouched, 
and  had  arrived  on  the  preceding  Monday  at  the 
Free  Kirk  manse  with  four  cartloads  of  furniture 
and  a  maiden  aunt.  For  three  days  he  roamed 
from  room  to  room  in  the  excitement  of  house- 
holding,  and  made  suggestions  which  were  re- 
ceived witn  hilarious  contempt ;  then  he  shut 
himself  up  in  his  study  to  prepare  the  great  ser- 
mon, and  his  aunt  went  about  on  tiptoe.  During 
meals  on  Friday  he  explained  casually  that  his 
own  wish  was  to  preach  a  simple  sermon,  and 
that  he  would  have  done  so  had  he  been  a  private 
individual,  but  as  he  had  held  the  MacWhammel 
scholarship  a  deliverance  was  expected  by  the 
country.  He  would  be  careful  and  say  nothing 
rash,  but  it  was  due  to  himself  to  state  the  pres- 
ent position  of  theological  thought,  and  he  might 
have  to  quote  once  or  twice  from  Ewald. 

His  aunt  was  a  saint,  with  that  firm  grasp  of 
truth,  and  tender  mysticism,  whose  combination 
is  the  charm  of  Scottish  piety,  and  her  face  was 
troubled.     While  the  minister  was  speaking  m 

79 


So  HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON, 

his  boyish  complacency,  her  thoughts  were  in  a 
room  where  they  had  both  stood,  five  years  be- 
fore, by  the  death-bed  of  his  mother. 

He  was  broken  that  day,  and  his  sobs  shook 
the  bed,  for  he  was  his  mother's  only  son  and 
fatherless,  and  his  mother,  brave  and  faithful  to 
the  last,  was  bidding  him  farewell. 

"Dinna  greet  like  that,  John,  nor  break  yir 
hert,  for  it's  the  will  o'  God,  and  that's  aye  best. 

"Here's  my  watch  and  chain,"  placing  them 
beside  her  son,  who  could  not  touch  them,  nor 
would  lift  his  head,  "and  when  ye  feel  the  chain 
about  yir  neck  it  will  mind  ye  o'  yir  mother's 
arms." 

"Ye  'ill  no  forget  me,  John,  I  ken  that  weel, 
and  I'll  never  forget  you.  I've  loved  ye  here 
and  I'll  love  ye  yonder.  Th'ill  no  be  an  'oor 
when  I'll  no  pray  for  ye,  and  I'll  ken  better  what 
to  ask  than  I  did  here,  sae  dinna  be  comfortless." 

Then  she  felt  for  his  head  and  stroked  it  once 
more,  but  he  could  not  look  nor  speak. 

"Ye  'ill  follow  Christ,  and  gin  He  offers  ye  His 
cross  ye'U  no  refuse  it,  for  He  aye  carries  the 
heavy  end  Himsel'.  He's  guided  yir  mother  a' 
thae  years,  and  been  as  gude  as  a  husband  since 
yir  father's  death,  and  He  'ill  hold  me  fast  tae  the 
end.  He  'ill  keep  ye  too,  and,  John,  I'll  be 
watchin'  for  ye.  Ye  'ill  no  fail  me,"  and  her  poor 
cold  hand  that  had  tended  him  all  his  days  tight- 
ened on  his  head. 


mS  MOTHER'S  SERMOI^r,  Zt 

But  he  could  not  speak,  and  her  voice  was  fail- 
ing fast. 

"I  canna  see  ye  noo,  John,  but  I  know  yir 
there,  an'  I've  just  one  other  wish.  If  God  calls 
ye  to  the  ministry,  ye  'ill  no  refuse,  an'  the  first 
day  ye  preach  in  yir  ain  kirk,  speak  a  gude  word 
for  Jesus  Christ,  an',  John,  I'll  hear  ye  that  day, 
though  ye  'ill  no  see  me,  and  I'll  be  satisfied." 

A  minute  after  she  whispered,  *' Pray  for  me," 
and  he  cried,  "  My  mother,  my  mother." 

It  was  a  full  prayer,  and  left  nothing  unasked 
of  Mary's  Son. 

''John,"  said  his  aunt,  **your  mother  is  with 
the  Lord,"  and  he  saw  death  for  the  first  time, 
but  it  was  beautiful  with  the  peace  that  passeth 
all  understanding. 

Five  years  had  passed,  crowded  with  thought 
and  work,  and  his  aunt  wondered  whether  he 
remembered  that  last  request,  or  indeed  had 
heard  it  in  his  sorrow. 

''What  are  you  thinking  about,  aunt?  Are 
you  afraid  of  my  theology  ?  " 

"No,  John,  it's  no  that,  laddie,  for  I  ken  ye  'ill 
say  what  ye  believe  to  be  true  withoot  fear  o* 
man,"  and  she  hesitated. 

"Come,   out  with  it,  auntie:  you're  my  only 
mother  now,   you  know,"  and  the  minister  put 
his  arm  round  her,  "as  well  as  the  kindest,  bon- 
niest, goodest  auntie  ever  man  had." 
6 


82  HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON". 

Below  his  student  self-conceit  he  was  a  good 
lad,  and  sound  of  heart. 

"Shame  on  you,  John,  to  make  a  fool  o'  an 
auld  dune  body,  but  ye'U  no  come  round  me  with 
yir  flattery.  I  ken  ye  ower  weel,"  and  as  she 
caught  the  likeness  in  his  face,  her  eyes  filled 
suddenly. 

"What's  the  matter,  auntie?  Will  ye  no  tell 
me  ? " 

"  Dinna  be  angry  wi'  me,  John,  but  a'm  con- 
cerned aboot  Sabbath,  for  a've  been  praying  ever 
syne  ye  were  called  to  Drumtochty  that  it  micht 
be  a  great  day,  and  that  I  micht  see  ye  comin 
tae  yir  people,  laddie,  wi'  the  beauty  o'  the  Lord 
upon  ye,  according  tae  the  auld  prophecy  :  *  How 
beautiful  upon  the  mountains  are  the  feet  of 
him  that  bringeth  good  tidings,  that  publisheth 
peace,'"  and  again  she  stopped. 

"Goon,  auntie,  go  on,"  he  whispered;  "say 
all  that's  in  yir  mind." 

"It's  no  for  me  tae  advise  ye,  who  am  only  a 
simple  auld  woman,  who  ken's  naethin'  but  her 
Bible  and  the  Catechism,  and  it's  no  that  a'm 
feared  for  the  new  views,  or  aboot  yir  faith,  for 
I  aye  mind  that  there's  mony  things  .the  Speerit 
hes  still  tae  teach  us,  and  I  ken  weel  the  man 
that  follows  Christ  will  never  lose  his  way  in  ony 
thicket.  But  it's  the  fouk,  John,  a'm  anxious 
aboot,  the  flock  o'  sheep  the  Lord  hes  given  ye 
tae  feed  for  Him." 


HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON.  83 

She  could  not  see  his  face,  but  she  felt  him 
gently  press  her  hand,  and  took  courage. 

''Ye  maun  mind,  laddie,  that  they're  no  clever 
and  learned  like  what  ye  are,  but  juist  plain 
country  fouk,  ilka  ane  wi'  his  ain  temptation,  an' 
a'  sair  trachled  wi'  mony  cares  o'  this  world. 
They  'ill  need  a  clear  word  tae  comfort  their 
herts  and  show  them  the  way  everlasting.  Ye 
'ill  say  what's  richt,  nae  doot  o'  that,  and  a'body 
'ill  be  pleased  wi'  ye,  but,  oh,  laddie,  be  sure  ye 
say  a  gude  word  for  Jesus  Christ." 

The  minister's  face  whitened,  and  his  arm  re- 
laxed. He  rose  hastily  and  went  to  the  door, 
but  in  going  out  he  gave  his  aunt  an  understand- 
ing look,  -such  as  passes  between  people  who 
have  stood  together  in  a  sorrow.  The  son  had 
not  forgotten  his  mother's  request. 

The  manse  garden  lies  toward  the  west,  and  as 
the  minister  paced  its  little  square  of  turf,  shel- 
tered by  fir  hedges,  the  sun  was  going  down 
behind  the  Grampians.  Black  massy  clouds  had 
begun  to  gather  in  the  evening,  and  threatened 
to  obscure  the  sunset,  which  was  the  finest  sight 
a  Drumtochty  man  was  ever  likely  to  see,  and  a 
means  of  grace  to  every  sensible  heart  in  the 
glen.  But  the  sun  had  beat  back  the  clouds  on 
either  side,  and  shot  them  through  with  glory, 
and  now  between  piled  billows  of  light  he  went 
along  a  shining  pathway  into  the  Gates  of  the 
West      The    minister    stood    still    before    that 


84  ^IS  MOTHER'S  SERMON. 

spectacle,  his  face  bathed  in  the  golden  glory, 
and  then  before  his  eyes  the  gold  deepened  into 
an  awful  red,  and  the  red  passed  into  shades  of 
violet  and  green,  beyond  painter's  hand  or  the 
imagination  of  man.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  a 
victorious  saint  had  entered  through  the  gates 
into  the  city,  washed  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb, 
and  the  after-glow  of  his  mother's  life  fell  sol- 
emnly on  his  soul.  The  last  trace  of  sunset  had 
faded  from  the  hill  when  the  minister  came  in, 
and  his  face  was  of  one  who  had  seen  a  vision. 
He  asked  his  aunt  to  have  worship  with  the  ser- 
vant, for  he  must  be  alone  in  his  study. 

It  was  a  cheerful  room  in  the  daytime,  with  its 
southern  window,  through  which  the  minister  saw 
the  roses  touching  the  very  glass  and  dwarf  apple 
trees  lining  the  garden  walks  ;  there  was  also  a 
western  window  that  he  might  watch  each  day 
close.  It  was  a  pleasant  room  how,  when  the 
curtains  were  drawn,  and  the  light  of  the  lamp  fell 
on  the  books  he  loved,  and  which  bade  him 
welcome.  One  by  one  he  had  arranged  the  hard- 
bought  treasures  of  student  days  in  the  little  book- 
case, and  had  planned  for  himself  that  sweetest  of 
pleasures,  an  evening  of  desultory  reading.  But 
his  books  went  out  of  mind  as  he  looked  at  the 
sermon  shining  beneath  the  glare  of  the  lamp, 
and  demanding  judgment.  He  had  finished  its 
last  page  with  honest  pride  that  afternoon,  and 
had  declaimed  it,  facing  the  southern  window, 


iris  MOTHER'S  SERM01\r. 


8S 


with  a  success  that  amazed  himself.  His  hope 
was  that  he  might  be  kept  humble,  and  not  called 
to  Edinburgh  for  at  least  two  years  ;  and  now  he 
lifted  the  sheets  with  fear.  The  brilliant  opening, 
with  its  historical  parallel,  this  review  of  modern 
thought  reinforced  by  telling  quotations,  that 
trenchant  criticism  of  old-fashioned  views,  would 
not  deliver.  For  the  audience  had  vanished,  and 
left  one  careworn,  but  ever  beautiful  face,  whose 
gentle  eyes  v/cre  Vv^aiting  with  a  yearning  look. 
Twice  he  crushed  the  sermon  in  his  hands,  and 
turned  to  the  fire  his  aunt's  care  had  kindled,  and 
twice  he  repented  and  smoothed  it  out.  What 
else  could  he  say  now  to  the  people }  and  then 
in  the  stillness  of  the  room  he  heard  a  voice, 
"  Speak  a  gude  word  for  Jesus  Christ." 

Next  minute  he  was  kneeling  on  the  hearth, 
and  pressing  the  viagnum  opus,  that  was  to  shake 
Drumtochty,  into  the  heart  of  the  red  fire,  and  he 
saw,  half-smiling  and  half-weeping,  the  impress- 
ive words,  *'  Semitic  environment,"  shrivel  up  and 
disappear.  As  the  last  black  flake  fluttered  out 
of  sight,  the  face  looked  at  him  again,  but  this  time 
the  sweet  brown  eyes  were  full  of  peace. 

It  was  no  masterpiece,  but  only  the  crude 
production  of  a  lad  who  knew  little  of  letters  and 
nothing  of  the  world.  Very  likely  it  would  have 
done  neither  harm  nor  good,  but  it  was  his  best, 
and  he  gave  it  for  love's  sake,  and  I  suppose  that 
there  is  nothing  in  a  human  life  so  precious  to 


86  HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON. 

God,  neither  clever  words  noi  famous  deeds,  as 
the  sacrifices  of  love. 

The  moon  flooded  his  bedroom  with  silver 
light,  and  he  felt  the  presence  of  his  mother.  His 
bed  stood  ghostly  with  its  white  curtains,  and  he 
remembered  how  every  night  his  mother  knelt  by 
its  side  in  prayer  for  him.  He  is  a  boy  once 
more,  and  repeats  the  Lord's  Prayer,  then  he  cries 
again,  '*  j\Iy  mother  !  my  mother  ! ''  and  an  in- 
describable contentment  fills  his  heart. 

His  prayer  next  morning  was  very  short,  but 
aftervv^ards  he  stood  at  the  v/indow  for  a  space, 
and  when  he  turned,  his  aunt  said  : 

"Ye  will  get  yir  sermon,  and  it  will  be  worth 
hearing." 

"  How  did  ye  know  }  " 

But  she  only  smiled,  '*  I  heard  you  pray." 

When  he  shut  himself  into  the  study  that  Satur- 
day morning,  his  aunt  went  into  her  room  above, 
and  he  knew  she  had  gone  to  intercede  for 
him. 

An  hour  afterwards  he  was  pacing  the  garden 
in  such  anxious  thought  that  he  crushed  with  his 
foot  a  rose  lying  on  the  path,  and  then  she  saw 
his  face  suddenly  lighten,  and  he  hurried  to  the 
house,  but  first  he  plucked  a  bunch  of  forget-me- 
nots.  In  the  evening  she  found  them  on  his 
sermon. 

Two  hours  later — for  still  she  prayed  and 
watched  in  faithfulness  to  mother  and  son — ^she 


HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON.  87 

observed  him  come  out  and  wander  round  the 
garden  in  great  joy.  He  lifted  up  the  soiled  rose 
and  put  it  in  his  coat ;  he  released  a  butterfly 
caught  in  some  mesh ;  he  buried  his  face  in 
fragrant  honeysuckle.  Then  she  understood  that 
his  heart  was  full  of  love,  and  was  sure  that  it 
would  be  well  on  the  morrow. 

When  the  bell  began  to  ring,  the  minister  rose 
from  his  knees  and  went  to  his  aunt's  room  to  be 
robed,  for  this  was  a  covenant  between  them. 

His  gown  was  spread  out  in  its  black  silken 
glory,  but  he  sat  down  in  despair. 

"Auntie,  whatever  shall  we  do,  for  I've  forgot- 
ten the  bands  ?  " 

"But  I've  not  forgotten  them,  John,  and  here 
are  six  pair  wrought  with  my  own  hands,  and 
now  sit  still  and  I'll  tie  them  round  my  laddie's 
neck.'' 

When  she  had  given  the  last  touch,  and  he 
was  ready  to  go,  a  sudden  seriousness  fell  upon 
them. 

"Kiss  me,  auntie." 

"  For  your  mother,  and  her  God  be  with  you," 
and  then  he  went  through  the  garden  and  under- 
neath the  honeysuckle  and  into  the  kirk,  where 
every  Free  Churchman  in  Drumtochty  that  could 
get  out  of  bed,  and  half  the  Established  Kirk,  were 
waiting  in  expectation. 

I  sat  with  his  aunt  in  the  minister'a  pew,  and 
shall  always  be  glad  that  I  was  at  that  services 


88  niS  MOTHER'S  SERMON, 

When  winter  lies  heavy  upon  the  glen  I  go  upon 
my  travels,  and  in  my  time  have  seen  many 
religious  functions.  I  have  been  in  Mr.  Spurgeon's 
Tabernacle,  where  the  people  wept  one  minute 
and  laughed  the  next ;  have  heard  Canon  Liddon 
in  St.  Paul's,  and  the  sound  of  that  high,  clear 
voice  is  still  with  me,  "■  Awake,  awake,  put  on  thy 
strength,  O  Zion  " ;  have  seen  High  Mass  in  St. 
Peter's,  and  stood  in  the  dusk  of  the  Duomo  at 
Florence  when  Padre  Agostino  thundered  against 
the  evils  of  the  day.  But  I  never  realized  the 
unseen  world  as  I  did  that  day  in  the  Free  Kirk 
of  Drumtochty. 

It  is  impossible  to  analyze  a  spiritual  effect, 
because  it  is  largely  an  atmosphere,  but  certain 
circumstances  assisted.  One  was  instantly  pre- 
possessed in  favor  of  a  young  minister  who  gave 
out  the  second  paraphrase  at  his  first  service,  for 
it  declared  his  filial  reverence  and  won  for  him 
the  blessing  of  a  cloud  of  witnesses.  No  Scottish 
man  can  ever  sing, 

•*  God  of  our  fathers,  be  the  God 
Of  their  succeeding  race," 

with  a  dry  heart.  It  satisfied  me  at  once  that 
the  minister  was  of  a  fine  temper  when,  after  a 
brave  attempt  to  join,  he  hid  his  face  and  was 
silent.  We  thought  none  the  worse  of  him  that 
he  was  nervous,  and  two  or  three  old  people  who 
had  suspected  self-sufficiency  took  him  to  their 


HIS  MO  THEIVS  SERMON,  89 

hearts  when  the  minister  concluded  the  Lord's 
prayer  hurriedly,  having  omitted  two  petitions. 
But  we  knew  it  was  not  nervousness  which  made 
him  pause  for  ten  seconds  after  praying  for 
widows  and  orphans,  and  in  the  silence  which 
fell  upon  us  the  Divine  Spirit  had  free  access. 
His  youth  commended  him,  since  he  was  also 
modest,  for  every  mother  had  come  with  an  in- 
articulate prayer  that  the  '*puir  laddie  wud  dae 
weel  on  his  first  day,  and  him  only  twenty-four." 
Texts  I  can  never  remember,  nor,  for  that  matter, 
the  words  of  sermons  ;  but  the  subject  was  Jesus 
Christ,  and  before  he  had  spoken  five  minutes 
I  was  convinced,  who  am  outside  dogmas  and 
churches,  that  Christ  was  present.  The  preacher 
faded  from  before  one's  eyes,  and  there  rose  the 
figure  of  the  Nazarene,  best  lover  of  every  human 
soul,  with  a  face  of  tender  patience  such  as  Sarto 
gave  the  Master  in  the  Church  of  the  Annunziata, 
and  stretching  out  His  hands  to  old  folk  and 
little  children  as  He  did,  before  His  death,  in 
Galilee.  His  voice  might  be  heard  any  moment, 
as  I  have  imagined  it  in  my  lonely  hours  by  the 
winter  fire  or  on  the  solitary  hills — soft,  low,  and 
sweet,  penetrating  like  music  to  the  secret  of  the 
heart,  * '  Come  unto  Me  .  .  .  and  I  will  give  you 
rest." 

During  a  pause  in  the  sermon  I  glanced  up  the 
church,  and  saw  the  same  spell  held  the  people. 
Donald  Menzies  had  long  ago  been  caught  into 


90  HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON. 

the  third  heaven,  and  was  now  hearing  words 
which  it  is  not  lawful  to  utter.  Campbell  in  his 
watch-tower  at  the  back  had  closed  his  eyes,  and 
was  praying.  The  women  were  weeping  quietly, 
and  the  rugged  faces  of  our  men  were  subdued 
and  softened,  as  when  the  evening  sun  plays  on 
the  granite  stone. 

But  what  will  stand  out  forever  before  my 
mind  was  the  sight  of  Marget  Howe.  Her  face 
was  as  white  as  death,  and  her  wonderful  gray 
eyes  were  shining  through  a  mist  of  tears,  so 
that  I  caught  the  light  in  the  manse  pew.  She 
was  thinking  of  George,  and  had  taken  the  min- 
ister to  her  heart. 

The  elders,  one  by  one,  gripped  the  minister's 
hand  in  the  vestry,  and,  though  plain,  homely 
men,  they  were  the  godliest  in  the  glen ;  but  no 
man  spoke  save  Bumbrae. 

"la'  but  lost  ae  fairm  for  the  Free  Kirk,  and 
I  wud  hae  lost  ten  tae  be  in  the  Kirk  this  day." 

Donald  walked  with  me  homewards,  but  would 
only  say  : 

"There  was  a  man  sent  from  God  whose  name 
was  John."  At  the  cottage  he  added,  "The 
friend  of  the  bridegroom  rejoiced  greatly  because 
of  the  bridegrooms  voice." 

Beneath  the  honeysuckle  at  his  garden  gate 
a  wornan  was  waiting. 

"  My  name  is  Marget  Howe,  and  I'm  the  wife 
of  William  Howe  of  Whinnie  Knowe.     My  only 


HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON.  91 

son  wes  preparin'  for  the  ministry,  but  God 
wanted  him  nearly  a  year  syne.  When  ye 
preached  the  Evangel  o'  Jesus  the  day  I  heard 
his  voice,  and  I  loved  you.  Ye  hev  nae  mither 
on  earth,  I  hear,  and  I  hae  nae  son,  and  I  wantit 
tae  say  that  if  ye  ever  wish  tae  speak  to  ony 
woman  as  ye  wud  tae  yir  mither,  come  tae 
Whinnie  Knowe,  an'  I'll  coont  it  ane  of  the 
Lord's  consolations." 

His  aunt  could  only  meet  him  in  the  study, 
and  when  he  looked  on  her  his  lip  quivered,  for 
his  heart  was  wrung  with  one  wistful  regret. 

"Oh,  auntie,  if  she  had  only  been  spared  to 
see  this  day,  and  her  prayers  answered." 

But  his  aunt  flung  her  arms  around  his  neck. 

"Dinna  be  cast  doon,  laddie,  nor  be  unbe- 
lievin*.  Yir  mither  has  heard  every  word,  and 
is  satisfied,  for  ye  did  it  in  remembrance  o'  her, 
and  yon  was  yir  mither's  sermon,"^ 


THE  TRANSFORMATION  OF  LACHLAN 
CAMPBELL 


A  GRAND  INQUISITOR. 

The  Free  Kirk  of  Drumtochty  had  no  gallery, 
but  a  section  of  seats  at  the  back  was  raised  twq 
feet,  and  any  one  in  the  first  pew  might  be  said 
to  sit  in  the  "  briest  o'  the  laft."  When  Lachlan 
Campbell  arrived  from  the  privileged  parish  of 
Auchindarroch,  where  the  **  Men "  ruled  with 
iron  hand  and  no  one  shaved  on  Sabbath,  he 
examined  the  lie  of  counti^y  with  the  eye  of  a 
strategist,  and  seized  at  once  a  corner  seat  on  the 
crest  of  the  hill.  From  this  vantage  ground,  with 
his  back  to  the  wall  and  a  clear  space  left  between 
himself  and  his  daughter  Flora,  he  had  an  easy 
command  of  the  pulpit,  and  within  six  months 
had  been  constituted  a  court  of  review  neither 
minister  nor  people  could  lightly  disregard.  It 
was  not  that  Lachlan  spoke  hastily  or  at  length, 
for  his  policy  was  generally  a  silence  pregnant 
with  judgment,  and  his  deliverances  were  for  the 
most  part  in  parables,  none  the  less  awful  be- 
cause hard  of  interpretation.  Like  every  true 
Celt,  he  had  the  power  of  reserve,  and  knew  the 
value  of  mystery.     His  voice  must  not  be  heard 

95 


96  LAC ff LAN  CAMPBELL. 

in  irresponsible  gossip  at  the  Kirk  door,  and  he 
never  condescended  to  the  level  of  Mrs.  MacFad- 
yen,  our  recognized  sermon  taster,  who  criticised 
everything  in  the  technique  of  the  pulpit,  from 
the  number  of  heads  in  a  sermon  to  the  air  with 
which  a  probationer  used  his  pocket-handker- 
chief She  lived  in  the  eye  of  the  public,  and 
gave  her  opinions  with  the  light  heart  of  a  news- 
paper writer  ;  but  Lachlan  kept  himself  in  the 
shadow  and  wore  a  manner  of  studied  humility 
as  became  the  administrator  of  the  Holy  Office 
in  Drumtochty. 

Lachlan  was  a  little  man,  with  a  spare,  wiry 
body,  iron  gray  hair  and  whiskers  carefully 
arranged,  a  keen,  old-fashioned  face  sharpened 
by  much  spiritual  thinking,  and  eyes  that  looked 
at  you  from  beneath  shaggy  eyebrows  as  from 
some  other  world.  His  face  had  an  irresistible 
suggestion  of  a  Skye  terrier,  the  most  serious  of 
animals,  with  the  hair  reduced,  and  Drumsheugh 
carried  us  all  with  him  when,  in  a  moment  of 
inspiration,  he  declared  that  "the  body  looks  as 
if  he  hed  juist  come  oot  o'  the  Ark."  He  was  a 
shepherd  to  trade,  and  very  faithful  in  all  his 
work,  but  his  life  business  was  theology,  from 
Supralapsarianism  in  Election  to  the  marks  of 
faith  in  a  believer's  heart.  His  library  consisted 
of  some  fifty  volumes  of  ancient  divinity,  and 
lay  on  an  old  oak  kist  close  to  his  hand,  where 
he  sat  beside  the  fire  of  a  winter  night.     When 


A  GRAND  INQUISITOR,  97 

the  sheep  were  safe  and  his  day's  labor  was  over, 
he  read  by  the  light  of  the  fire  and  the  *'crusie  ** 
(oil  lamp)  overhead,  Witsius  on  the  Covenants, 
or  Rutherford's  "Christ  Dying,"  or  Bunyan's 
'*Grace  Abounding,"  or  Owen's  "  130th  Psalm," 
while  the  colHes  slept  at  his  feet,  and  Flora  put 
the  finishing  stroke  to  some  bit  of  rustic  finery. 
Worship  was  always  colored  by  the  evening's 
reading,  but  the  old  man  never  forgot  to  pray 
that  they  both  might  have  a  place  in  the  ever- 
lasting covenant,  and  that  the  backslidings  of 
Scotland  might  be  healed. 

As  our  inquisitor,  Lachlan  searched  anxiously 
for  sound  doctrine  and  deep  experience,  but  he 
was  not  concerned  about  learning,  and  fluency 
he  regarded  with  disgust.  When  a  young  minis- 
ter from  Muirtown  stamped  twice  in  his  prayer 
at  the  Drumtochty  Fast,  and  preached  with  great 
eloquence  from  the  words,  ''And  there  was  no 
more  sea,"  repeating  the  text  at  the  end  of  each 
paragraph,  and  concluding  the  sermon  with 
"Lord  UUin's  Daughter,"  the  atmosphere  round 
Lachlan  became  electric,  and  no  one  dared  to 
speak  to  him  outside.  He  never  expressed  his 
mind  on  this  melancholy  exhibition,  but  the  fol- 
lowing Sabbath  he  explained  the  principle  on 
which  they  elected  ministers  at  Auchindarroch, 
which  was  his  standard  of  perfection. 

"Six  young  men  came,  and  they  did  not  sing 
songs  in  the  pulpit.  Oh  no,  they  preached  fery 
7 


pS  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

well,  and  I  said  to  Angus  Bain,  'They  are  all 
goot  lads,  and  there  is  nothing  wrong  with  their 
doctrine.' 

"Angus  wass  on^  of  the  'Men,'  and  saw  what 
wass  hidden  from  me,  and  he  will  be  saying, 
'  Oh  yes,  they  said  their  lesson  fery  pretty,  but  I 
did  not  see  them  tremble,  Lachlan  Campbell. 
Another  iss  coming,  and  seven  is  agoot  number." 

"It  wass  next  Sabbath  that  he  came,  and  he 
was6  a  white  man,  giv'ing  out  his  text,  'Blessed 
are  they  which  are  called  unto  the  marriage  sup- 
per of  the  Lamb,'  and  I  wass  thinking  that  the 
Lord  had  laid  too  great  a  burden  on  the  lad,  and 
that  he  could  not  be  fit  for  such  a  work.  It  wass 
not  more  than  ten  minutes  before  he  will  be  try- 
ing to  tell  us  what  he  wass  seeing,  and  will  not 
hef  the  words.  He  had  to  go  down  from  the  pul- 
pit as  a  man  that  had  been  in  the  heavenly  places 
and  wass  stricken  dumb. 

"  'It  iss  the  Lord  that  has  put  me  to  shame 
this  day,'  he  said  to  the  elders,  'and  I  will  nefer 
show  my  face  again  in  Auchindarroch,  fori  ought 
not  to  have  meddled  with  things  too  high  for  me.' 

" '  You  will  show  your  face  here  every  Sabbath,' 
answered  Angus  Bain,  'for  the  Lord  said  unto 
me,  "  Wait  for  the  man  that  trembles  at  the  Word, 
and  iss  not  able  to  speak,  and  it  will  be  a  sign 
unto  you,"'  and  a  fery  goot  minister  he  wass, 
and  made  the  hypocrites  in  Zion  to  be  afraid.' 

Lachlan   dealt  tenderly  with  our  young  Free 


A  GRAND  INQUISITOR,  99 

Kirk  minister,  for  the  sake  of  his  first  day,  and 
passed  over  some  very  shallow  experience  with- 
out remark,  but  an  autumn  sermon  roused  him  to 
a  sense  ot  duty.  For  some  days  a  storm  of  wind 
and  rain  had  been  stripping  the  leaves  from  the 
trees  and  gathering  them  in  sodden  heaps  upon 
the  ground.  The  minister  looked  out  on  the 
garden  where  many  holy  thoughts  had  visited 
him,  and  his  heart  sank  like  lead,  for  it  was  deso- 
late, and  of  all  its  beauty  there  remained  but  one 
rose  clinging  to  its  stalk,  drenched  and  faded.  It 
seemed  as  if  youth,  with  its  flower  of  promise 
and  hope,  had  been  beaten  down,  and  a  sense  of 
loneliness  fell  on  his  soul.  He  had  no  heart  for 
work,  and  crept  to  bed  broken  and  dispirited. 
During  the  night  the  rain  ceased,  and  the  north 
wind  began  to  blow,  which  cleanses  nature  in 
every  pore,  and  braces  each  true  man  for  his  bat- 
tle. The  morrow  was  one  of  those  glorious  days 
which  herald  winter,  and  as  the  minister  tramped 
along  the  road,  where  the  dry  leaves  crackled 
beneath  his  feet,  and  climbed  to  the  moor  with 
head  on  high,  the  despair  of  yesterday  vanished. 
The  wind  had  ceased,  and  the  glen  lay  at  his  feet, 
distinct  in  the  cold,  clear  air,  from  the  dark  mass 
of  pines  that  closed  its  upper  end  to  the  swelling 
woods  of  oak  and  beech  that  cut  it  off  from  the 
great  Strath.  He  had  received  a  warm  welcome 
from  all  kinds  of  people,  and  now  he  marked 
with  human  sympathy  each  little  homestead  with 


lOO  LAC ff LAN  CAMPBELL. 

its  belt  of  firs  against  the  winter'  storms,  and 
its  stackyard  where  the  corn  had  been  gathered 
safe  ;  the  ploughman  and  his  horses  cutting  brown 
ribbons  in  the  bare  stubble ;  dark  squares  where 
the  potato  stalks  have  withered  to  the  ground,  and 
women  are  raising  the  roots,  and  here  and  there 
a  few  cattle  still  out  in  the  fields.  His  eye  fell  on 
the  great  wood  through  which  he  had  rambled  in 
August,  Tio'w  one  blaze  of  color,  rich  green  and 
light  yellow,  with  patches  of  fiery  red  and  dark 
purple.  God  seemed  to  have  given  him  a  ser- 
mon, and  he  wrote  that  evening,  like  one  inspired, 
on  the  same  parable  of  nature  Jesus  loved,  with 
its  subtle  interpretation  of  our  sorrows,  joys,  trust, 
and  hope.  People  told  me  that  it  was  a  ''  rael 
bonnie  sermon,"  and  that  Netherton  had  forgot- 
ten his  after-sermon  snuff,  although  it  was  his 
turn  to  pass  the  box  to  Burnbrae. 

The  minister  returned  to  his  study  in  a  fine 
glow  of  body  and  soul,  to  find  a  severe  figure 
standing  motionless  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

**\Vass  that  what  you  call  a  sermon?"  said 
Lachlan  Campbell,  without  other  greeting. 

John  Carmichael  was  still  so  full  of  joy  that  he 
did  not  catch  the  tone,  and  explained  with  col- 
lege pedantry  that  it  was  hardly  a  sermon,  nor 
yet  a  lecture. 

*'You  may  call  it  a  meditation." 

**  I  will  be  calling  it  an  essay  without  one  bite 
of  grass  for  starving  sheep. " 


3 


A  GRAND  INQUISITOR.  loi 

Then  the  minister  awoke  from  a  pleasant  dream, 
as  if  one  had  flung  cold  water  on  his  naked 
body. 

"What  was  wrong?"  with  an  anxious  look  at 
the  stern  little  man  who  of  a  sudden  had  become 
his  judge. 

"There  was  nothing  right,  for  I  am  not  think- 
ing that  trees  and  leaves  and  stubble  fields  will 
save  our  souls,  and  I  did  not  hear  about  sin  and 
repentance  and  the  work  of  Christ.  It  iss  sound 
doctrine  that  we  need,  and  a  great  peety  you  are 
not  giving  it." 

The  minister  had  been  made  much  of  in  college 
circles,  and  had  a  fair  idea  of  himself.  He  was 
a  kindly  lad,  but  he  did  not  see  why  he  should 
be  lectured  by  an  old  Highlandman  who  read 
nothing  except  Puritans,  and  was  blind  with  prej- 
udice. When  they  parted  that  Sabbath  afternoon 
it  was  the  younger  man  that  had  lost  his  temper, 
and  the  other  did  not  offer  to  shake  hands. 

Perhaps  the  minister  would  have  understood 
Lachlan  better  if  he  had  known  that  the  old  man 
could  not  touch  food  when  he  got  home,  and 
spent  the  evening  in  afir  wood  praying  for  the  lad 
he  had  begun  to  love.  And  Lachlan  would  have 
had  a  lighter  heart  if  he  had  heard  the  minister 
questioning  himself  whether  he  had  denied  the 
Evangel  or  sinned  against  one  of  Christ's  dis- 
ciples. They  argued  together ;  they  prayed 
apart 


102  LAC  ULAN  CAMPBELL. 

Lachlan  was  careful  to  say  nothing,  but  the 
congregation  felt  that  his  hand  was  against  the 
minister,  and  Burnbrae  took  him  to  task. 

**Ye  maunna  be  ower  hard  on  him,  Maister 
Campbell,  for  he's  but  young,  and  comin'  on  fine. 
He  hes  a  hearty  word  for  ilka  body  on  the  road, 
and  the  sicht  o'  his  fresh  young  face  in  the  poopit 
is  a  sermon  itsel'." 

**You  are  wrong,  Burnbrae,  if  you  will  be 
thinking  that  my  heart  iss  not  warm  to  the  min- 
ister, for  it  went  out  unto  him  from  the  day  he 
preached  his  first  sermon.  But  the  Lord  regard- 
eth  not  the  countenance  of  man." 

"Nae  doot,  nae  doot,  but  I  canna  see  onything 
wrang  in  his  doctrine  ;  it  wudna  be  reasonable 
tae  expect  auld-fashioned  sermons  frae  a  young 
man,  and  I  wud  coont  them  barely  honest.  A'm 
no  denying  that  he  gaes  far  afield,  and  taks  us  tae 
strange  lands  when  he's  on  his  travels,  but  ye  'ill 
acknowledge  that  he  gaithers  mony  treasures, 
and  he  aye  comes  back  tae  Christ." 

•'No,  I  will  not  be  saying  that  John  Carmichael 
does  not  love  Christ,  for  I  hef  seen  the  Lord  in 
his  sermons  like  a  face  through  the  lattice.  Oh 
yes,  and  I  hef  felt  the  fragrance  of  the  myrrh. 
But  I  am  not  liking  his  doctrine,  and  I  wass 
thinking  that  some  day  there  will  be  no  original 
sin  left  in  the  parish  of  Drumtochty." 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  minister  made 
a  great  mistake,  although  he  was  trying  to  do  his 


A  GRAND  INQUISITOR,  103 

best  for  the  people,  and  always  obeyed  his  con- 
science. He  used  to  come  over  to  the  Cottage 
for  a  ramble  through  my  books,  and  one  evening 
he  told  me  that  he  had  prepared  what  he  called  a 
"course"  on  Biblical  criticism,  and  was  going  to 
place  Drumtochty  on  a  level  with  Germany.  It 
was  certainly  a  strange  part  for  me  to  advise 
a  minister,  but  I  had  grown  to  like  the  lad, 
because  he  was  full  of  enthusiasm  and  too  honest 
for  this  world,  and  I  implored  him  to  be  cautious. 
Drumtochty  was  not  anxious  to  be  enlightened 
about  the  authors  of  the  Pentateuch,  being  quite 
satisfied  with  Moses,  and  it  was  possible  that  cer- 
tain good  men  in  Drumtochty  might  resent  any 
interference  with  their  hereditary  notions.  Why 
could  he  not  read  this  subject  for  his  own  pleas- 
ure, and  teach  it  quietly  in  classes?  Why  give 
himself  away  in  the  pulpit .?  This  worldly  coun- 
sel brought  the  minister  to  a  w^hite  heat,  and 
he  rose  to  his  feet.  Had  he  not  been  ordained 
to  feed  his  people  with  truth,  and  was  he  not 
bound  to  tell  them  all  he  knew  ?  We  w^ere  living 
in  an  age  of  transition,  and  he  must  prepare 
Christ's  folk  that  they  be  not  taken  unawares.  If 
he  failed  in  his  duty  through  any  fear  of  con- 
sequences, men  would  arise  afterwards  to  con- 
demn him  for  cowardice,  and  lay  their  unbelief 
at  his  door.  When  he  ceased  I  was  ashamed 
of  my  cynical  advice,  and  resolved  never  again 
to  interfere  with   **  courses"  or   other    matters 


104  LACHLA.V  CAMPBELL 

above  the  lay  mind.  But  greater  knowledge  of 
the  world  had  made  me  a  wise  prophet. 

Within  a  month  the  Free  Kirk  was  in  an  up- 
roar, and  when  I  dropped  in  one  Sabbath  morning 
the  situation  seemed  to  me  a  very  pathetic  trag- 
edy. The  minister  was  offering  to  the  honest 
country  folk  a  mass  of  immature  and  undigested 
details  about  the  Bible,  and  they  were  listening 
with  wearied,  perplexed  faces.  Lachlan  Camp- 
bell sat  grim  and  watchful,  without  a  sign  of 
flinching,  but  even  from  the  Manse  pew  I  could 
detect  the  suffering  of  his  heart.  When  the  min- 
ister blazed  into  polemic  against  the  bigotry  of 
the  old  school,  the  iron  face  quivered  as  if  a 
father  had  been  struck  by  his  son.  Carmichael 
looked  thin  and  nervous  in  the  pulpit,  and  it  came 
to  me  that  if  new  views  are  to  be  preached  to  old- 
fashioned  people  it  ought  not  to  be  by  lads  who 
are  always  heady  and  intolerant,  but  by  a  stout 
man  of  middle  age,  with  a  rich  voice  and  a  good- 
natured  manner.  Had  Carmichael  rasped  and 
girded  much  longer,  one  would  have  believed  in 
the  inspiration  of  the  vowel  points,  and  I  left  the 
church  with  a  low  heart,  for  this  was  a  woeful 
change  from  his  first  sermon. 

Lachlan  would  not  be  pacified,  not  even  by  the 
plea  of  the  minister's  health. 

"Oh  yes,  I  am  seeing  that  he  is  ill,  and  I  will 
be  as  sorry  as  any  man  in  Drumtochty.  But  it 
iss  not  too  much  work,  as  they  are  saying  ;  it  iss 


A  GRAND  INQUISITOR,  105 

the  judgment  of  God.  It  iss  not  goot  to  meddle 
with  Moses,  and  John  Carmichael  will  be  know- 
ing that.  His  own  sister  wass  not  respectful  to 
MoseSy  and  she  will  not  be  feeling  fery  well  next 
day." 

But  Burnbrae  added  that  the  ''auld  man  cudna 
be  mair  cast  doon  if  he  hed  lost  his  dochter." 

The  peace  of  the  Free  Kirk  had  been  broken, 
and  the  minister  was  eating  out  his  heart,  when 
he  remembered  the  invitation  of  Marget  Howe, 
and  went  one  sweet  spring  day  to  Whinnie 
Knowe. 

IMarget  met  him  with  her  quiet  welcome  at  the 
garden  gate. 

"Ye  hae  dune  me  a  great  kindness  in  comin', 
Maister  Carmichael,  and  if  ye  please  W3  'ill  sit  in 
this  sunny  corner  which  is  dear  tae  me,  and 
ye  'ill  tell  me  yir  troubles." 

So  they  sat  down  together  beside  the  brief 
bush,  and  after  one  glance  at  Marget's  face  the 
minister  opened  his  heart,  and  told  her  the  great 
controversy  with  Lachlan. 

Marget  lifted  her  head  as  one  who  had  heard 
of  some  brave  deed,  and  there  was  a  ring  in  hef 
voice. 

*'It  maks  me  prood  before  God  that  there  ar3 
twa  men  in  Drumtochty  who  follow  their  con- 
science as  king,  and  coont  truth  dearer  than  their 
ain  freends.  It's  peetifu'  when  God's  bairns  fecht 
through  greed  and  envy,  but  it's  hertsome  when 


Io6  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL, 

they  are  wuUin'  tae  wrestle  aboot  the  Evangel, 
for  surely  the  end  o'  it  a'  maun  be  peace. 

**  A've  often  thocht  that  in  the  auld  days  baith 
the  man  on  the  rack  and  the  inqueesitor  himself 
micht  be  gude  men  and  accepted  o'  God,  and 
maybe  the  inqueesitor  suffered  mair  than  the 
martyr.  A'm  thinking  Maister  Carmichael,  that 
it's  been  hardest  on  Lachlan." 

The  minister  s  head  was  buried  in  his  hands, 
but  his  heart  was  with  Marget. 

''It's  a  strange  buik  the  Bible,  and  no  the  bulk 
we  wud  hae  made,  tae  judp-e  by  oor  bit  creeds 
and  confessions.  It's  like  a  head  o'  aits  in  the 
harvest  time.  There'^s  the  ear  that  bauds  the 
grain  and  keeps  it  safe,  and  that's  the  history, 
and  there's  often  no  mickle  nutriment  in  it ;  then 
there's  the  corn  lying  in  the  ear,  which  is  the 
Evangel  frae  Eden  tae  Revelation,  and  that  is 
the  bread  o'  the  soul.  But  the  corn  maun  be 
threshed  first  and  the  cauf  (chaff)  cleaned  aff.  It's 
a  bonnie  sicht  tae  see  the  pure  grain  fallin'  like  a 
rinnin'  burn  on  the  corn-room  floor,  and  a  glint 
o'  the  sun  through  the  window  turning  it  intae 
gold.  But  the  stour  (dust)  o'  the  cauf  room  is 
mair  than  onybody  can  abide,  and  the  caufs 
worth  naethin'  when  the  corn's  awa." 

"Ye  mean,"  said  the  minister,  "that  my  study 
is  the  threshin'  mill,  and  that  some  of  the  chaff 
has  got  into  the  pulpit." 

'  *  Yir  no  offended, "  aiid  Marget's  voice  trembled. 


A  GRAND  INQUISITOR.  107 

Then  the  minister  lifted  his  head  and  laughed 
aloud  with  joy,  while  a  swift  flash  of  humor  lit 
up  Marget's  face. 

*' You've  been  the  voice  of  God  to  me  this  day, 
Mrs.  Howe,  but  if  I  give  up  my  'course,'  the 
people  vv^ill  misunderstand,  for  I  know  everything 
I  gave  was  true,  and  I  would  give  it  all  again  if 
it  were  expedient." 

"Naefear,  Maister  Carmichael,  naebody  mis- 
understands that  luves,  and  the  fouk  all  luve  ye, 
and  the  man  that  bauds  ye  dearest  is  Lachlan 
Campbell.  I  saw  the  look  in  his  een  that  canna 
be  mistaken." 

"I'll  go  to  him  this  very  day,"  and  the  minister 
leaped  to  his  feet. 

"Ye 'ill  no  regret  it,"  said  Marget,  "for  God 
will  give  ye  peace. " 

Lachlan  did  not  see  the  minister  coming,  for 
he  was  busy  with  a  lamb  that  had  lost  its  way 
and  hurt  itself.  Carmichael  marked  with  a 
growing  tenderness  at  his  heart  how  gently  the 
old  man  washed  and  bound  up  the  wounded  leg, 
all  the  time  crooning  to  the  frightened  creature 
in  the  sweet  Gaelic  speech,  and  also  how  he  must 
needs  give  the  lamb  a  drink  of  warm  milk  before 
he  set  it  free. 

When  he  rose  from  his  work  of  mercy,  he 
faced  the  minister. 

For  a^ninstant  Lachlan  hesitated,  and  then  at 


I08  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL, 

the  look  on  Carmichael's  face  he  held  out  both 
his  hands. 

"  This  iss  a  goot  day  for  me,  and  I  bid  you  ten 
thousand  welcomes/' 

But  the  minister  took  the  first  word. 

*^You  and  I,  Lachlan,  have  not  seen  eye  to 
eye  about  somethings  lately,  and  I  am  not  here 
to  argue  which  is  nearer  the  truth,  because  per- 
haps we  may  always  differ  on  some  lesser  mat- 
ters. But  once  I  spoke  rudely  to  you,  and  often 
I  have  spoken  unwisely  in  my  sermons.  You 
are  an  old  man  and  I  am  a  young,  and  I  ask 
you  to  forgive  me  and  to  pray  that  both  of  us 
may  be  kept  near  the  heart  of  our  Lord,  whom 
we  love,  and  who  loves  us." 

No  man  can  be  so  courteous  as  a  Celt,  and 
Lachlan  was  of  the  pure  Highland  breed,  kindest 
of  friends,  fiercest  of  foes. 

"You  hef  done  a  beautiful  deed  this  day, 
IMaister  Carmichael ;  and  the  grace  of  God  must 
hef  been  exceeding  abundant  in  your  heart.  It 
iss  this  man  that  asks  your  forgiveness,  for  I 
wass  full  of  pride,  and  did  not  speak  to  you  as 
an  old  man  should  ;  but  God  iss  my  witness  that 
I  would  hef  plucked  out  my  right  eye  for  your 
sake.  You  will  say  every  word  God  gives  you, 
and  I  will  take  as  much  as  God  gives  me,  and 
there  will  be  a  covenant  between  us  as  long  as 
we  live." 

They  knelt  together  on  the  earthen  floor  of  that 


A  GRAND  INQUISITOR,  109 

Highland  cottage,  the  old  school  and  the  new, 
before  one  Lord,  and  the  only  difference  in  their 
prayers  was  that  the  young  man  prayed  they 
might  keep  the  faith  once  delivered  unto  the 
saints,  while  the  burden  of  the  old  man's  prayer 
was  that  they  might  be  led  into  all  truth. 

Lachlan's  portion  that  evening  ought  to  have 
been  the  slaying  of  Sisera,  from  the  Book  of 
Judges,  but  instead  he  read,  to  Flora's  amaze- 
ment— it  was  the  night  before  she  left  her  home 
— the  thirteenth  chapter  of  i  Corinthians,  and 
twice  he  repeated  to  himself,  ''Now  we  see 
through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then  face  to  face." 


IL 

HIS  BITTER  SHAME. 

The  Free  Kirk  people  were  very  proud  of  their 
vestry  because  the  Established  Church  had  none, 
and  because  it  was  reasonably  supposed  to  be 
the  smallest  in  Scotland.  When  the  minister, 
who  touched  five  feet  eleven,  and  the  beadle, 
who  was  three  inches  taller,  assembled  for  the 
procession,  with  the  precentor,  a  man  of  fair 
proportions,  there  was  no  waste  ground  in  that 
room,  and  any  messenger  from  the  church  door 
had  to  be  selected  with  judgment.  ''Step  up, 
Airchie  man,  tae  the  vestry,"  Burnbrae  would  say 
to  the  one  undersized  man  in  Drumtochty,  "and 
tell  the  minister  no  tae  forget  the  Jews.  Ye  can 
birse  (push)  in  fine,  but  it  wud  beat  me  to  get 
by  the  door.  It's  a  bonnie  bit  room,  but  three 
fouk  stannin'  maks  it  contrakit  for  another  man." 

It  was  eight  feet  by  eight,  and  consisted 
largely  of  two  doors  and  a  fireplace,  and  its 
chief  glory  was  a  portrait  of  Dr.  Chalmers, 
whose  face,  dimly  seen  in  the  light  of  the  lamp, 
was  a  charter  of  authority,    and  raised   the  pro- 

IIO 


HIS  BITTER  SHAME.  m 

ceedings  ♦©  the  level  of  history.  Lockers  on 
either  side  of  the  mantelpiece  contained  the 
church  library,  which  abounded  in  the  lives  of 
Scottish  worthies,  and  was  never  lightly  dis- 
turbed. Where  there  was  neither  grate  nor  door, 
a  narrow  board  ran  along  the  wall,  on  which  it 
w^as  simply  a  point  of  honor  to  seat  the  twelve 
deacons,  who  met  once  a  month  to  raise  the 
Sustentation  Fund  by  modest,  heroic  sacrifices 
of  hard-working  people,  and  to  keep  the  slates 
on  the  church  roof  in  winter.  When  they  had 
nothing  else  to  do,  they  talked  about  the  stove 
which  ''came  out  in  '43,"  and,  when  it  was  in 
good  humor,  would  raise  the  temperature  in 
winter  one  degree  above  freezing.  Seating  the 
court  was  a  work  of  art,  and  could  only  be 
achieved  by  the  repression  of  the  smaller  men, 
who  looked  out  from  the  loop-holes  of  retreat, 
the  projection  of  bigger  men  on  to  their  neigh- 
bors' knees,  and  the  absolute  elimination  of 
Archie  Moncur,  whose  voice  made  motions  on 
temperance  from  the  lowest  depths.  Netherton 
was  always  the  twelfth  man  to  arrive,  and  noth- 
ing could  be  done  till  he  was  safely  settled. 
Only  some  six  inches  were  reserved  at  the  end 
of  the  bench,  and  he  was  a  full  sitter,  but  he 
had  discovered  a  trick  of  sitting  sideways  and 
screwing  his  leg  against  the  opposite  wall,  that 
secured  the  court  as  well  as  himself  in  their  places 
on  the  principle  of  a  compressed  spring.     When 


112  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL, 

this  operation  was  completed,  Burnbrae  used  to 
say  to  the  minister,  who  sat  in  the  middle  on 
a  cane  chair  before  the  tiniest  of  tables — the  living 
was  small,  and  the  ministers  never  grew  fat  till 
they  left— 

"We're  fine  and  comfortable  noo,  IModerator, 
and  ye  can  begin  business  as  sune  as  ye  like." 

As  there  were  only  six  elders  they  could  sit  in 
state,  besides  leaving  a  vacant  space  for  any  peni- 
tents v/ho  came  to  confess  their  sins  and  receive 
absolution,  or  some  catechumen  who  wished  to 
be  admitted  to  the  sacrament.  Carmichael  used 
to  say  that  a  meeting  of  Session  affected  his  im- 
agination, and  would  have  made  an  interior  for 
Rembrandt.  On  one  side  of  the  table  sat  the  men 
who  represented  the  piety  of  the  district  and  were 
supposed  to  be  "far  ben"  in  the  Divine  fellow- 
ship, and  on  the  other  some  young  girl  in  her 
loneliness,  who  wrung  her  handkerchief  in  terror 
of  this  dreaded  spiritual  court,  and  hoped  within 
her  heart  that  no  elder  would  ask  her  "effectual 
calling  "  from  the  Shorter  Catechism  ;  while  the 
little  lamp,  hanging  from  the  ceiling,  and  swing- 
ing gently  in  the  wind  that  had  free  access  from 
every  airt,  cast  a  fitful  light  on  the  fresh,  tearful 
face  of  the  girl  and  the  hard,  weather-beaten 
countenances  of  the  elders,  composed  into  a  seri- 
ous gravity  not  untouched  by  tenderness.  They 
were  little  else  than  laboring  men,  but  no  one  was 
elected  to  that  court  unless  he  had  given  pledges 


HIS  BITTER  SHAME.  X13 

of  godliness,  and  they  bore  themselves  as  men 
who  had  the  charge  of  souls. 

The  little  Sanhedrim  had  within  it  the  school  of 
Hillel,  which  was  swayed  by  mercy,  and  its  Rabbi 
was  Burnbrae  ;  and  the  school  of  Shammai,  whose 
rule  was  inflexible  justice,  and  its  Rabbi  was 
Lachlan  Campbell.  Burnbrae  was  a  big-hearted 
man,  with  a  fatherly  manner,  and  had  a  genius 
for  dealing  with  "  young  communicants." 

**  Weel,  Jessie,  we're  awfu  pleased  tae  think  yer 
gaein'  forrit,  and  the  Dominie  wes  tellin'  me  juist 
last  week  that  ye  did  yir  work  at  schule  graund, 
and  knew  yir  Bible  frae  end  tae  end. 

"It'll  no  be  easy  to  speir  (ask)  the  like  o'  you 
questions,  but  ye  mind  Abraham,  Jessie." 

"Ou  ay,"  and  Jessie  is  all  alert,  although  she 
is  afraid  to  look  up. 

"What  was  the  name  o'  his  wife,  noo  1 " 

**  Sarah,  an'  their  son  \vas  Isaac." 

"That's  richt,  and  what  aboot  Isaac's  wife.?  " 

"Isaac  mairrit  Rebecca,  and  they  hed  twa  sons, 
Jacob  and  Esau,"  and  the  girl  takes  a  shy  glance 
at  the  honest  elder,  and  begins  to  feel  at  home. 

"Domsie  wesna  far  wrang,  a' see,  but  it's  no 
possible  ye  cud  tell  us  the  names  o'  Jacob's  sons  ; 
it's  maybe  no  fair  tae  ask  sic  a  teuch  question," 
knowing  all  the  while  that  this  was  a  test  case  of 
Domsie's. 

When  Jessie  reached  Benjamin,  Burnbrae  could 
not  contain  himself. 
8 


214  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

*'  It's  nae  use  trying  to  stick  Jessie  wi'  the  Bible, 
neeburs ;  we  'ill  see  what  she  can  dae  wi'  the 
Carritches  (Catechism).  Yir  no  the  lassie  that 
said  the  questions  frae  beginning  tae  end  wi'  twa 
mistaks,  are  ye  ?  " 

Yes,  she  was,  and  dared  him  to  come  on,  for 
Jessie  has  forgotten  the  minister  and  all  the 
Session. 

*  *  The  elders  wad  like  tae  hear  *  What  is  the 
Lord's  Supper  ? '  " 

"That's  it;  and  Jessie,  ma  woman,  gie's  the 
*  worthy  receiving. 

Jessie  achieves  another  triumph,  and  is  now 
ready  for  anything. 

* '  Ye  hae  the  Word  weel  stored  in  yir  mind, 
iassie,  and  ye  maun  keep  it  in  yir  life,  and  dinna 
forget  that  Christ's  a  gude  Maister.' 

"A'll  dae  ma  best,"  and  Jessie  declared  that 
Burnbrae  had  been  as  kind  as  if  she  had  been 
**hisain  bairn, "and that  she  "wasna feared ava." 
But  her  trial  is  not  over  ;  the  worst  is  to  come. 

Lachlan  began  where  Burnbrae  ended,  and  very 
soon  had  Jessie  on  the  rack. 

"  How  old  will  you  be }  " 

'^Auchteen  next  Martinmas.'' 

"And  why  will  you  be  coming  to  the  sacra- 
ment }  " 

"  Ma  mitherthocht  it  was  time,"  with  a  threat- 
ening of  tears  as  she  looked  at  the  face  in  the 
comer. 


HIS  BITTER  SHAME.  1 15 

**  Ye  will  maybe  tell  the  Session  what  hass  been 
your  'lawwork'  and  how  long  ye  hef  been  at 
Sinai." 

'*A'  dinna  ken  what  yir  askin'.  I  was  never 
oot  o'  Drumtochty,"  and  Jessie  breaks  down 
utterly. 

*'A'  dinna  think,  Moderator,  we  ocht  tae  ask 
sic  questions,"  broke  in  Burnbrae,  who  could  not 
see  a  little  one  put  to  confusion;  *'an'I  canna 
mind  them  in  the  Gospels.  There's  ae  command- 
ment Jessie  keeps  weel,  as  a'  can  testeefy,  and 
that's  the  fifth,  for  there's  no  a  better  dochter  in 
Drumtochty.  A'  move,  IModerator,  she  get  her 
token  ;  dinna  greet,  puir  woman,  for  ye've  dune 
weel,  and  the  Session's  rael  satisfeed." 

''It  wass  Dr.  John's  mark  I  wass  trying  the 
girl  by,"  explained  Lachlan  after  Jessie  had  gone 
away  comforted.  ''And  it  iss  a  goot  mark,  oh 
yes,  and  very  searching. 

"Ye  will  maybe  not  know  what  it  iss,  Moder- 
ator," and  Lachlan  regarded  the  minister  with 
austere  superiority,  for  it  was  the  winter  of  the 
feud. 

No,  he  did  not,  nor  any  of  the  Session,  being 
all  douce  Scotchmen,  except  Donald  Menzies, 
who  was  at  home  fighting  the  devil. 

"It  iss  broken  bones,  and  Dr,  John  did  preach 
three  hours  upon  it  at  Auchindarroch  Fast,  and 
there  wass  not  many  went  to  the  Sacrament  on 
that  occasion. 


Il6  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

"Broken  bones  iss  a  fine-  mark  to  begin  with, 
and  the  next  will  be  doubts.  But  there  iss  a 
deeper,"  continued  Lachlan,  warming  to  his  sub- 
ject, "  oh  yes,  far  deeper,  and  I  heard  of  it  when 
I  wass  North  for  the  sheep,  and  I  will  not  be  for- 
getting that  day  with  Janet  r\Iacfarlane. 

"  I  knew  she  wass  a  professor,  and  I  wass  look- 
ing for  her  marks.  But  it  wass  not  for  me  to  hef 
been  searching  her ;  it  was  that  woman  that 
should  hef  been  trying  me." 

A  profound  silence  wrapt  the  Session. 

**  '  Janet,'  I  said,  -  hef  ye  had  many  doubts  } ' 

•*  '  Doubts,  Lachlan  }  was  that  what  you  asked.? 
I  hef  had  desertions,  and  one  will  be  for  six 
months,' 

"So  I  saw  she  wass  far  beyond  me,  for  I  dare 
not  be  speaking  about  desertions." 

Two  minutes  after  the  minister  pronounced  the 
benediction,  and  no  one  had  offered  any  remark 
in  the  interval. 

It  seemed  to  the  elders  that  Lachlan  dealt  hardly 
with  young  people  and  those  that  had  gone  astray, 
but  they  learned  one  evening  that  his  justice  had 
at  least  no  partiality.  Burnbrae  said  afterwards 
that  Lachlan  "looked  like  a  ghaist  comin' in  at 
the  door, "but  he  sat  in  silence  in  the  shadow, 
and  no  one  marked  the  agony  on  his  face  till  the 
end. 

"If  that  iss  all  the  business,  Moderator,  I  hef  to 
bring  a  case  of  discipline  before  the  Session,  and 


HIS  BITTER  SHAME. 


117 


aslt  fhem  to  do  their  duty.  It  iss  known  to  me 
that  a  young  woman  who  hass  been  a  member  of 
this  church  hass  left  her  home  and  gone  into  the 
far  country.  There  will  be  no  use  in  summoning 
her  to  appear  before  the  Session,  for  she  will 
never  be  seen  again  in  this  parish.  I  move  that  she 
be  cut  off  from  the  roll,  and  her  name  iss,"  and 
.achlan's  voice  broke,  but  in  an  instant  he  re- 
fcovered  himself — "her  name  iss  Flora  Campbell. " 

Carmichael  confessed  to  me  that  he  was  stricken 
dumb,  and  that  Lachlan's  ashen  face  held  him 
with  an  awful  fascination. 

It  was  Burnbrae  that  first  found  a  voice,  and 
showed  that  night  the  fine  delicacy  of  heart  that 
may  be  hidden  behind  a  plain  exterior. 

"Moderator,  this  is  a  terrible  calamity  thathes 
befaen  oor  brither,  and  a'm  feelin'  as  if  a'  hedlost 
a  bairn  o'  my  ane,  for  a  sweeter  lassie  didna 
cross  oor  kirk  door.  Nane  o'  us  want  tae  know 
what  hes  happened  or  where  she  hes  gane,  and 
no  a  word  o'  this  wull  cross  oor  lips.  Her  faither's 
dune  mair  than  cud  be  expeckit  o'  mortal  man, 
and  noo  we  have  oor  duty.  It's  no  the  way  o' 
thi^Session  tae  cut  aff  ony  member  o'  the  flock  at 
a  stroke,  and  we 'ill  no  begin  with  Flora  Campbell. 
A'  move.  Moderator,  that  her  case  be  left  tae  her 
faither  and  yersel,  and  oor  neebur  may  depend 
on  it  that  Flora's  name  and  his  ain  \n\\\  be  men- 
tioned in  oor  prayers,  ilka  mornin'  an'  nicht  till 
the  gude  Shepherd  o'  the  sheep  brings  her  hame." 


1 18  LA CHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

Burnbrae  paused,  and  then,  Tvith  tears  in  his 
voice — men  do  not  weep  in  Drumtochty — "With 
the  Lord  there  is  mercy,  and  with  Him  is  plen- 
teous redemption." 

The  minister  took  the  old  man's  arm  and  led 
him  into  the  manse,  and  set  him  in  the  big  chair 
by  the  study  fire.  "Thank  God,  Lachlan,  we  are 
friends  now ;  tell  me  about  it  as  if  I  were  your 
son  and  Flora's  brother." 

The  father  took  a  letter  out  of  an  inner  pocket 
with  a  trembling  hand,  and  this  is  what  Car- 
michael  read  by  the  light  of  the  lamp  : — 

"Dear  Father, — When  thisreaches  you  I  will 
be  in  London,  and  not  worthy  to  cross  your 
door.  Do  not  be  always  angry  with  me,  and  try 
to  forgive  me,  for  you  will  not  be  troubled  any 
more  by  my  dancing  or  dressing.  Do  not  think 
that  I  will  be  blaming  you,  for  you  have  been  a 
good  father  to  me,  and  said  what  you  would  be 
considering  right,  but  it  is  not  easy  for  a  man  to 
understand  a  girl.  Oh,  if  I  had  had  my  mother, 
then  she  would  have  understood  me,  and  I  would 
not  have  crossed  you.  Forget  poor  Flora's  fool- 
ishness, but  you  will  not  forget  her,  and  maybe 
you  will  still  pray  for  me.  Take  care  of  the  ge- 
raniums for  my  sake,  and  give  milk  to  the  lamb 
that  you  called  after  me.  I  will  never  see  you 
again,  in  this  world  or  the  next,  nor  my  mother  .  .  . 
(here  the  letter  was  much  blotted).     When  I  think 


HIS  BITTER  SHAME,  119 

that  there  will  be  no  one  to  look  after  you,  and 
have  the  fire  burning  for  you  on  winter  nights,  I 
will  be  rising  to  come  back.  But  it  is  too  late,  too 
late.  Oh,  the  disgrace  I  will  be  bringing  on  you 
in  the  glen. — Your  unworthy  daughter. 

Flora  Campbell." 

**This  is  a  fiery  trial,  Lachlan,  and  I  cannot 
even  imagine  what  you  are  suffering.  But  do 
not  despair,  for  that  is  not  the  letter  of  a  bad 
girl.  Perhaps  she  was  impatient,  and  has  been 
led  astray.  But  Flora  is  good  at  heart,  and  you 
must  not  think  she  is  gone  for  ever." 

Lachlan  groaned,  the  first  moan  he  had  made, 
and  then  he  tottered  to  his  feet. 

**You  are  ferykind,  Maister  Carmichael,  and 
so  wass  Burnbrae,  and  I  will  be  thankful  to  you 
all,  but  you  do  not  understand.  Oh  no,  you  do  not 
understand."  Lachlan  caught  hold  of  a  chair 
and  looked  the  minister  in  the  face. 

"She  hass  gone,  and  there  will  be  no  coming 
back.  You  would  not  take  her  name  from  the 
roll  of  the  church,  and  I  will  not  be  meddling 
with  that  book.  But  Ihef  blotted  out  her  name 
from  my  Bible,  where  her  mother's  name  iss 
written  and  mine.  She  has  wrought  confusion  in 
Israel  and  in  an  elder's  house,  and  I  ....  I  hef 
no  daughter.  But  I  loved  her ;  she  nefer  knew 
how  I  loved  her,  for  her  mother  would  be  looking 
at  me  from  her  eyes. " 


I20  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL, 

The  minister  walked  with  Lachlan  to  the  foot 
of  the  hill  on  which  his  cottage  stood,  and  after 
they  had  shaken  hands  in  silence,  he  watched 
the  old  man's  figure  in  the  cold  moonlight  till  he 
disappeared  into  the  forsaken  home,  where  the 
fire  had  gone  out  on  the  hearth,  and  neither  love 
nor  hope  were  waiting  for  a  broken  heart. 

The  railway  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to 
come  to  Drumtochty,  and  we  were  cut  off  from 
the  lowlands  by  miles  of  forest,  so  our  manners 
retained  the  fashion  of  the  former  age.  Six  elders, 
besides  the  minister,  knew  the  tragedy  of  Flora 
Campbell,  and  never  opened  their  lips.  Mrs. 
]\Iacfadyen,  who  was  our  newspaper,  and  under- 
stood her  duty,  refused  to  pry  into  this  secret. 
The  pity  of  the  glen  went  out  to  Lachlan,  but 
no  one  even  looked  a  question  as  he  sat  alone  in 
his  pew  or  came  down  on  a  Saturday  afternoon  to 
the  village  shop  for  his  week's  provisions.  Lon- 
don friends  thought  me  foolish  about  my  adopted 
home,  but  I  asked  them  whether  they  could  find 
such  perfect  good  manners  in  Belgravia,  and  they 
were  silent'  My  Drumtochty  neighbors  would 
have  played  an  awkward  part  in  a  drawing-room, 
but  never  have  I  seen  in  all  my  wanderings  men 
and  women  of  truer  courtesy  or  tenderer  heart. 

"It  gars  ma  hert  greet  tae  see  him,"  Mrs.  Mac- 
fadyen  said  to  me  one  day,  "sae  booed  an' dis- 
jackit,  him  that  wes  that  snod  (tidy)  and  firm. 
His  hair's  turned  white  in  a  month,  and  he's  awa 


HIS  BITTER  SHAME.  121 

fae  naething  in  his  claithes.  But  least  said  is 
sunest  mended.  It's  no  richt  tae  interfere  wi* 
another's  sorrow,  an'  it  wad  be  an  awfu'  sin  tae 
misca'  a  young  lassie.  We  maun  juist  houp  that 
Flora  '11  sune  come  back,  for  if  she  disna  Lachlan 
'11  no  be  lang  wi's.  He's  sayin'  naethin',  and  a' 
respeck  him  for't;  but  onybody  can  see  that  his 
hert  is  breakin'." 

We  were  helpless  till  Marget  Howe  met  Lachlan 
in  the  shop  and  read  his  sorrow  at  a  glance.  She 
went  home  to  Whinnie  Knowe  in  great  distress. 

"  It  wes  waesome  tae  see  the  auld  man  githerin' 
his  bit  things  wi'  a  shakin' hand,  and  speakin'  tae 
me  aboot  the  weather,  and  a'  the  time  his  eyes 
were  sayin',  'Flora,  Flora.'" 

**  Whar  div  ye  think  the  young  hizzie  is,  Mar- 
get?" 

"  Naebody  needs  tae  know,  Weelum,  an'  ye 
maunna  speak  that  way,  for  whatever's  come 
ower  her,  she's  dear  to  Lachlan  and  tae  God. 

"It's  laid  on  me  tae  veesit  Lachlan,  for  a'm 
thinking  oor  Father  didna  comfort  us  withoot  ex- 
peckin'  that  we  wud  comfort  other  fouk." 

When  Margetcame  round  the  corner  of  Lachlan's 
cottage,  she  found  Flora's  plants  laid  out  in  the 
sun,  and  her  father  watering  them  on  his  knees. 
One  was  ready  to  die,  and  for  it  he  had  made  a 
shelter  with  his  plaid. 

He  was  taken  unawares,  but  in  a  minute  he  was 
leading  Marget  in  with  hospitable  words. 


122  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

"Itiss  kind  of  you  to  come  to  an  old  man's 
house,  Mistress  Howe,  and  it  iss  a  fery  warm  day. 
You  will  not  care  for  speerits,  but  I  am  fery  goot 
at  making  tea." 

Marget  was  not  as  other  women,  and  she  spoke 
at  once. 

**  Maister  Campbell,  ye  will  believe  that  I  hev 
come  in  the  love  of  God,  and  because  we  hev 
baith  been  afflickit.  I  had  ae  son,  and  he  is  gone  ; 
ye  had  ae  dochter,  and  she  is  gone.  A'  ken  where 
George  is,  and  am  sateesfied.  A'  doot  sairly  yir 
sorrow  is  deeper  than  mine." 

"Would  to  God  that  she  wass  lying  in  the  kirk- 
yard  ;  but  I  will  not  speak  of  her.  She  iss  not 
anything  to  mc  this  day.  See,  I  will  show  you 
what  I  hef  done,  for  she  hass  been  a  black  shame 
to  her  name." 

He  opened  the  Bible,  and  there  was  Flora's 
name  scored  with  wavering  strokes,  but  the  ink 
had  run  as  if  it  had  been  mingled  with  tears. 

INIarget's  heart  burned  within  her  at  the  sight, 
and  perhaps  she  could  hardly  make  allowance  for 
Lachlan's  blood  and  theology. 

"This  is  what  ye  hev  dune,  and  ye  let  a  woman 
see  yir  wark.  Ye  are  an  auld  man,  and  in  sore 
travail,  but  a'  tell  ye  before  God  ye  hae  the  greater 
shame.  Juist  twenty  years  o'  age  this  spring, 
and  her  mither  dead.  Nae  woman  to  watch  over 
her,  and  she  wandered  frae  the  fold,  and  a'  ye  can 
dae  is  to  tak  her  oot  o'  yir  Bible.     Wae's  me  if 


HIS  BITTER  SHAME, 


^^Z 


oor  Father  had  blooted  out  oor  names  frae  the 
Book  o'  Life  when  we  left  His  hoose.  But  he 
sent  His  ain  Son  to  seek  us,  an'  a  weary  road  He 
cam.  A'  tell  ye,  a  man  wudna  leave  a  sheep  tae 
perish  as  ye  hae  cast  aff  yir  ain  bairn.  Yir  worse 
than  Simon  the  Pharisee,  for  Mary  was  nae  kin 
tae  him.     Puir  Flora,  tae  hae  sic  a  father." 

"Who  will  be  telling  you  that  I  was  a  Phari- 
see ?  "  cried  Lachlan,  quivering  in  every  limb, 
and  grasping  Marget's  arm. 

"Forgie  me,  Lachlan,  forgie  me.  It  was  the 
thocht  o'  the  misguided  lassie  carried  me,  for  a' 
didna  come  tae  upbraid  ye." 

But  Lachlan  had  sunk  into  a  chair  and  had  for- 
gotten her. 

**  She  hass  the  word,  and  God  will  hef  smitten 
ihe  pride  of  my  heart,  for  it  iss  Simon  that  I  am. 
I  wass  hard  on  my  child,  and  I  wass  hard  on  the 
minister,  and  there  wass  none  like  me.  The  Lord 
has  laid  my  name  in  the  dust,  and  I  will  be  angry 
with  her.  But  she  iss  the  scapegoat  for  my  sins, 
and  has  gone  into  the  desert.  God  be  merciful  to 
me  a  sinner."  And  then  Marget  understood  no 
more,  for  the  rest  was  in  Gaelic,  but  she  heard 
Flora's  name  with  another  she  took  to  be  her 
mother's  twined  together. 

So  Marget  knew  it  would  be  well  with  Lachlan 
yet,  and  she  wrote  this  letter  : 

'*  My  Dear  Lassie, — Ye  ken  that  I  wes  ay^  yir 


X24  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

freend,  and  I  am  writing  this  tae  say  that  yir  father 
luves  ye  mair  than  ever,  and  is  wearing  oot  his 
hert  for  the  sicht  o'  yir  face.  Come  back,  or  he'll 
dee  thro  want  o'  his  bairn.  The  glen  is  bright 
and  bonny  noo,  for  the  purple  heather  is  on  the 
hills,  and  doon  below  the  gowden  corn,  wi'  blue- 
bell and  poppy  flowers  between.  Naebody  'ill 
ask  ye  where  ye've  been,  or  onything  else  ;  there's 
no  a  bairn  in  the  place  that's  no  wearying  tae  see 
ye  ;  and.  Flora,  lassie,  if  there  will  be  sic  gledness 
in  oor  wee  glen  when  ye  come  hame,  what  think 
ye  o'  the  joy  in  the  Father's  Hoose  ?  Start  the 
verra  meenit  that  ye  get  this  letter  ;  yir  father 
bids  ye  come,  and  I'm  writing  this  in  place  o'  yir 
mother.  Marget  Howe." 

Marget  went  out  to  tend  the  flowers  while 
Lachlan  read  the  letter,  and  when  he  gave  it  back 
the  address  was  written  in  his  own  hand. 

He  went  as  far  as  the  crest  of  the  hill  with 
Marget,  and  watched  her  on  the  way  to  the  post- 
office  till  she  was  only  a  speck  upon  the  road. 

When  he  entered  his  cottage  the  shadows  were 
beginning  to  fall,  and  he  remembered  it  would 
soon  be  night. 

"It  iss  in  the  dark  that  Flora  will  be  coming, 
and  she  must  know  that  her  father  iss  waiting 
for  her.  '* 

He  cleaned  and  trimmed  with  anxious  hand  a 
lamp  that  was  kept  for  show,  and  had  never  been 


HIS  BITTER  SHAME,  125 

used.  Then  he  selected  from  his  books  Edwards' 
"Sinners  in  the  Hands  of  an  angry  God,"  and 
"Coles  on  the  Divine  Sovereignty,"  and  on  them 
he  laid  the  large  family  Bible  out  of  which  Flora's 
name  had  been  blotted.  This  was  the  stand  on 
which  he  set  the  lamp  in  the  window,  and  every 
night  till  Flora  returned  its  light  shone  down  the 
steep  path  that  ascended  to  her  home,  like  the 
Divine  Love  from  the  open  door  of  our  Father's 
House. 


III. 

LIKE  AS  A  FATHER 

It  was  only  by  physical  force  and  a  free  use  of 
personalties  that  the  Kildrummie  passengers 
could  be  entrained  at  the  Junction,  and  the  Drum- 
tochty  men  were  always  the  last  to  capitulate. 

They  watched  the  main  line  train  that  had 
brought  them  from  Muirtown  disappear  in  the 
distance,  and  then  broke  into  groups  to  discuss 
the  cattle  sale  at  leisure,  while  Peter,  the  factotum 
of  the  little  Kildrummie  branch,  drove  his  way 
through  their  midst  with  offensive  pieces  of  lug- 
gage, and  abused  them  by  name  without  respect 
of  persons. 

"It's  maist  aggravatin,'  Drumsheugh,  'at  ye 
'ill  stand  there  girnin'  at  the  prices,  as  if  ye  were  a 
puir  cottar  body  that  hed  selt  her  ae  coo,  and  us 
twal  meenutes  late.  Man,  get  intae  yer  kerridge  ; 
he  'ill  no  be  fat  that  buys  frae  you,  a'll  wager." 

"Peter's in  an  awfu'  feery-farry  (excitement)  the 
nicht,  neeburs,"  Drumsheugh  would  respond, 
after  a  long  pause;  **ye  wud  think  he  wes  a 
mail  gaird  tae  hear  him  speak.  Mind  ye,  a'm  no 
gain'  tae  shove  ahint  if  the  engine  sticks,  for  I 
126 


LIKE  AS  A  FATHER.  1 27 

hae  na  time.  He  needs  a  bit  nip,"  and  Drum- 
sheugh  settles  himself  in  his  seat,  "  or  else  there 
wud  be  nae  leevin'  wi  him." 

Peter  escaped  this  winged  shaft,  for  he  had 
detected  a  woman  in  the  remote  darkness. 

''Keep's  a*,  wumman,  what  are  ye  stravagin' 
about  there  for  out  o'  a  body's  sicht .?  a'  near  set 
aff  withoot  ye." 

Then  Peter  recognized  her  face,  and  his  manner 
softened  of  a  sudden. 

"Come  awa,'  lassie,  come  awa'  ;  a*  didna  ken 
ye  at  the  moment,  but  a'  heard  ye  hed  been 
veesitin'  in  the  sooth. 

''The  third  is  terrible  full  wi'  thae  Drumtochty 
lads,  and  ye  'ill  hear  naething  but  Drumsheugh's 
stirks  ;  ye  'ill  maybe  be  as  handy  in  oor  second." 
And  Flora  Campbell  stepped  in  unseen. 

Between  the  Junction  and  Kildrummie  Peter 
was  accustomed  to  wander  along  the  footboard, 
collecting  tickets  and  identifying  passengers.  He 
was  generally  in  fine  trim  on  the  way  up,  and 
took  ample  revenge  for  the  insults  of  the  de- 
parture. But  it  was  supposed  that  Peter  had  taken 
Drumsheugh's  withering  sarcasm  to  heart,  for  he 
attached  himself  to  the  second  that  night,  and 
was  invisible  to  the  expectant  third  till  the  last 
moment. 

"  Ye've  hed  a  lang  journey,  IVIiss  Cammil,  and 
7e  maun  be  nearly  dune  wi'  tire  ;  juist  ye  sit  still 
till  the  fouk  get  awa',  and  the  guidwife  and  me 


i28  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

wud  be  prood  if  ye  took  a  cup  o'  tea  wi's  afore 
ye  stairted  hame.  A'll  cime  for  ye  as  sune  as  a' 
get  the  van  emptied  and  ma  little  trokes  feen- 
ished" 

Peter  hurried  up  to  his  cottage  in  such  hot  haste 
that  his  wife  came  out  in  great  alarm. 

"Na,  there's  naethin' wrang  ;  it's  the  opposite 
way  this  nicht.  Ye  mind  o'  Flora  Cammil  ihat 
left  her  father,  and  nane  o'  the  Drumtochty  fouk 
wud  say  onything  aboot  her.  Weel,  she's  in  the 
train,  and  a've  asked  her  up  tae  rest,  and  she  was 
gled  tae  come,  puir  thing.  Sae  gie  her  a  couthy 
welcome,  wumman,  and  the  best  in  the  hoose, 
for  oors  'ill  be  the  first  roof  she  'ill  be  under  on  her 
way  hame." 

Our  women  do  not  kiss  one  another  like  the 
city  ladies  ;  but  the  motherly  grip  of  Mary  Bruce's 
hand  sent  a  thrill  to  Flora's  heart. 

**Nooa'  ca'  this  rael  kind  o'  ye,  Miss  Cammil, 
tae  come  in  withoot  ceremony,  and  a'd  be  terrible 
pleased  if  ye  would  dae  it  ony  time  yer  traivellin'. 
The  rail  is  by  ordinar  fateegin',  and  a  cup  o'  tea 
'ill  set  ye  up,"  and  Mary  had  Flora  in  the  best 
chair,  and  was  loadin'  her  plate  with  homely 
dainties. 

Peter  would  speak  of  nothing  but  the  new 
engine  that  was  coming,  and  was  to  place  the 
Kildrummie  branch  beyond  ridicule  forever,  and 
on  this  great  event  he  continued  without  intermis- 
sion till  he  parted  with  Flora  on  the  edge  of  the 


LIKE  AS  A  FA  THER. 


129 


pine  woods  that  divided  Drumtochty  from  Kil- 
drummie. 

**Gudenicht  tae  ye,  Miss  Cammil,  and  thank 
ye  again  for  yir  veesit.  Bring  the  auld  man  wi' 
ye  next  time  ye're  passing,  though  a'm  feared 
yeVe  been  deived  (deafened)  wi'  the  engine." 

Flora  took  Peter's  hand,  that  was  callous  and 
rough  with  the  turning  of  brakes  and  the  coupling 
of  chains. 

"It  wass  not  your  new  engine  you  wass  think- 
ing about  this  night,  Peter  Bruce,  but  a  poor  girl 
that  iss  in  trouble.  I  hef  not  the  words,  but  I  will 
be  remembering  your  house,  oh  yes,  as  long  as  I 
live." 

Twice  Peter  stood  on  his  way  home  ;  the  first 
time  he  slapped  his  leg  and  chuckled  : 

**Sall,  it  was  gey  clever  o'  me  ;  a  halekerridge 
o'  Drumtochty  lads,  and  no  ane  o'  them  ever  hed 
a  glint  o'  her." 

At  the  second  stoppage  he  drew  his  hand 
across  his  eyes. 

"Puir  lassie,  a'  houp  her  father  'ill  be  kind  tae 
her,  for  she's  sair  broken,  and  looks  liker  deith 
than  life." 

No  one  can  desire  a  sweeter  walk  than  through 
a  Scottish  pine  wood  in  late  September,  where 
you  breathe  the  healing  resinous  air,  and  the 
ground  is  crisp  and  springy  beneath  your  feet, 
and  gentle  animals  dart  away  on  every  side,  and 
here  and  there  you  come  on  an  open  space  with 
9 


j^O  LACHLAiV  CAMPBELL, 

a  pool,  and  a  brake  of  gorse.  i\Iany  a  time  on 
market  days  Flora  had  gone  singing  through  these 
woods,  plucking  a  posy  of  wild  flowers  and  find- 
ing a  mirror  in  every  pool,  as  young  girls  will ; 
but  now  she  trembled  and  was  afraid.  The  rus- 
tling of  the  trees  in  the  darkness,  the  hooting  of 
an  owl,  the  awful  purity  of  the  moonlight  in  the 
glades,  the  cold  sheen  of  the  water,  were  to  her 
troubled  conscience  omens  of  judgment.  Had  it 
not  been  for  the  kindness  of  Peter  Bruce,  which 
was  a  pledge  of  human  forgiveness,  there  would 
have  been  no  heart  in  her  to  dare  that  wood,  and 
it  was  with  a  sob  of  relief  she  escaped  from  the 
shadow  and  looked  upon  the  old  glen  once  more, 
bathed  from  end  to  end  in  the  light  of  the  harvest 
moon.  Beneath  her  ran  our  little  river,  spanned 
by  its  quaint  old  bridge ;  away  on  the  right 
the  Parish  Kirk  peeped  out  from  a  clump  of 
trees ;  half  way  up  the  glen  the  clachan  lay  sur- 
rounded by  patches  of  corn  ;  and  beyond  were 
the  moors,  with  a  shepherd's  cottage  that  held 
her  heart.  Two  hours  ago  squares  of  light  told 
of  warmth  and  welcome  within  ;  but  now,  as 
Flora  passed  one  house  after  another,  it  seemed 
as  if  every  one  she  knew  was  dead,  and  she  was 
forgotten  in  her  misery.  Her  heart  grew  cold, 
and  she  longed  to  lie  down  and  die,  when  she 
caught  the  gleam  of  a  lighted  window.  Some 
one  was  living  still  to  know  she  had  repented, 
and  she  knelt  down  among  the  flowers  with  her 


LIKE  AS  A  FATHER.  131 

ear  to  the  glass  to  hear  the  sound  of  a  human 
voice.  Archie  Moncur  had  come  home  late  from 
a  far-away  job,  but  he  must  needs  have  worship 
with  his  sister  before  they  went  to  bed,  and  well 
did  he  choose  the  psalm  that  night.  Flora's  tears 
rained  upon  the  mignonette  as  the  two  old  people 
sang  : 

"  When  Sion's  bondage  God  turned  back, 

As  men  that  dreamed  were  we, 
Then  filled  with  laughter  was  our  mouth. 
Our  tongue  with  melody ; " 

while  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  went  up  as 
incense  unto  God. 

All  the  way  along  the  glen  the  last  words  of 
the  psalm  still  rang  in  her  ears,  "  Rejoicing  shall 
return,"  but  as  she  touched  the  footpath  to  her 
home,  courage  failed  her.  Marget  had  written  for 
her  dead  mother,  but  no  one  could  speak  with 
authority  for  her  father.  She  knew  the  pride  of 
his  religion  and  his  iron  principles.  If  he  refused 
her  entrance,  then  it  had  been  better  for  her  to 
have  died  in  London.  A  turn  of  the  path  brought 
her  within  sight  of  the  cottage,  and  her  heart  came 
into  her  mouth,  for  the  kitchen  window  was  a  blaze 
of  light.  One  moment  she  feared  Lachlan  might 
be  ill,  but  in  the  next  she  understood,  and  in  the 
greatness  of  her  joy  she  ran  the  rest  of  the  way. 
When  she  reached  the  door,  her  strength  had  de* 
parted,  and  she  was  not  able  to  knock.  But  there 
was  no  need,  for  the  dogs,  who  never  forget  nor 


132  LAC ff LAN  CAMPBELL, 

cast  off,  were  bidding  her  welcome  with  short 
joyous  yelps  of  delight,  and  she  could  hear  her 
father  feeling  for  the  latch,  which  for  once  could 
not  be  found,  and  saying  nothing  but  **  Flora, 
Flora." 

She  had  made  up  some  kind  of  speech,  but  the 
only  word  she  ever  said  was  ''Father,"  for  Lach- 
lan,  who  had  never  even  kissed  her  all  the  days 
of  her  youth,  clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  sobbed 
out  blessings  over  her  head,  while  the  dogs  licked 
her  hands  with  their  soft,  kindly  tongues. 

"It  iss  a  peety  you  hef  not  the  Gaelic,"  Flora 
said  to  Marget  afterwards  ;  "it  iss  the  best  of  all 
languages  for  loving.  There  are  fifty  words  for 
darling,  and  my  father  will  be  calling  me  every 
one  that  night  I  came  home." 

Lachlan  was  so  carried  with  joy,  and  firelight  is 
so  hopeful,  that  he  had  not  seen  the  signs  of  sore 
sickness  on  Flora's  face,  but  the  morning  light  un- 
deceived him,  and  he  was  sadly  dashed. 

"You  will  befery  tired  after  your  long  journey, 
Flora,  and  it  iss  good  for  you  to  rest.  There  is  a 
man  in  the  clachan  I  am  wanting  to  see,  and  he 
will  maybe  be  comin'  back  with  me." 

When  Lachlan  reached  his  place  of  prayer,  he 
lay  on  the  ground  and  cried,  "  Have  mercy  on 
me,  O  Lord,  and  spare  her  for  Thy  servant's  sake, 
and  let  me  not  lose  her  after  Thou  hast  brought 
her  back  and  hast  opened  my  heart.  .  .  .  Take 
her  not  till  she  has   seen  that  I  love   her.  .  .  . 


LIKE  AS  A  FATHER,  133 

(jive  me  time  to  do  her  Ivindness  for  the  past 
wherein  I  oppressed  her.  .  .  .  O,  turn  away  Thy 
judgment  on  my  hardness,  and  let  not  the  child 
suffer  for  her  father's  sins. "  Then  he  arose  and 
hastened  for  the  doctor. 

It  was  afternoon  before  Dr.  MacLure  could 
come,  but  the  very  sight  of  his  face,  which  was 
as  the  sun  in  its  strength,  let  light  into  the  room 
where  Lachlan  sat  at  the  bedside  holding  Flora's 
hand,  and  making  woful  pretence  that  she  was 
not  ill. 

"Weel,  Flora,  ye've  got  back  frae  yir  veesits, 
and  a'  tell  ye  we've  a'  missed  ye  maist  terrible. 
A'  doot  thae  sooth  country  fouk  haena  been  feed- 
ing ye  ower  weel,  or  maybe  it  was  the  toon  air. 
It  never  agrees  wi'  me.  A"m  half  chokit  a'  the 
time  a'm  in  Glesgie,  and  as  for  London,  there's 
ower  mony  fouk  tae  the  square  yaird  for  health." 

All  the  time  he  was  busy  at  his  work,  and  no 
man  could  do  it  better  or  quicker,  although  the 
outside  of  him  was  not  encouraging. 

"Lachlan,  what  are  ye traivellin'  in  and  oot  there 
for  with  a  face  that  wud  sour  milk  }  What  ails  ye, 
man .?  ye're  surely  no  imaginin'  Flora's  gaein  to 
leave  ye  t 

**  Lord's  sake,  it's  maist  provokin'  that  if  a  body 
hes  a  bit  whup  o'  illness  in  Drumtochty,  their 
freends  tak  tae  propheseein'  deith." 

Lachlan  had  crept  over  to  Flora's  side,  and  both 
were  waiting. 


134  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

"Na;  na ;  ye  ken  a'  never  tell  lees  like  the 
g-raund  ceety  doctors,  and  a'll  warrant  Flora  'ill 
be  in  kirk  afore  Martinmas,  an'  kiltin'  up  the  braes 
as  hardy  as  a  hielan'  sheltie  by  the  new  year. " 

Flora  puts  an  arm  round  her  father's  neck,  and 
draws  down  his  face  to  hers,  but  the  doctor  is  look- 
ing another  way. 

**Dinna  fash  wi'  medicine;  gie  her  plenty  o* 
fresh  milk  and  plenty  o'  air.  There's  nae  leeviri* 
for  a  doctor  wi'  that  Drumtochty  air ;  it  hasna  a 
marra  in  Scotland.  It  starts  frae  the  Moray  F'irth 
and  sweeps  doon  Badenoch,  and  comes  owcr  the 
moor  o'  Rannoch  and  across  the  Grampians. 
There's  the  salt  o'  the  sea,  and  the  caller  air  o'  the 
hills,  and  the  smell  o'  the  heather,  and  the  bloom 
o'  mony  a  flower  in't.  If  there's  nae  disease  in 
the  organs  o'  the  body,  a  puff  o'  Drumtochty  air 
wud  bring  back  a  man  frae  the  gates  o'  deith. " 

*'  You  hef  made  two  hearts  glad  this  day.  Doc- 
tor MacLure,"  said  Lachlan,  outside  the  door, 
*'and  I  am  calling  you  Barnabas." 

'''Ye've  ca'd  me  waur  names  than  that  in  yir 
time,"  and  the  doctor  mounted  his  horse.  "It's 
dune  me  a  warld  o'  guid  tae  see  Flora  in  her  hame 
again,  and  I'll  gie  Marget  Howe  a  cry  in  passin' 
and  send  her  up  tae  hae  a  crack,  for  th  re's  no  a 
wiser  wumman  in  the  glen." 

When  Marget  came,  Flora  told  her  the  history 
of  her  letter. 

**  It  wass  a  beautiful  night  in  London,  but  I 


I 


LIKE  AS  A  FATHER,  135 

will  be  thinking  that  there  iss  no  living  person 
caring  whether  I  die  or  live,  and  I  wass  con- 
sidering how  I  could  die,  for  there  is  nothing  so 
hopeless  as  to  hef  no  friend  in  a  great  city.  It 
iss  often  that  I  hef  been  alone  on  the  moor,  and 
no  man  within  miles,  but  I  wass  never  lonely,  oh 
no,  I  had  plenty  of  good  company.  I  would  sit 
dovrn  beside  a  burn,  and  the  trout  will  swim  out 
from  below  a  stone,  and  the  cattle  will  come  to 
drink,  and  the  muirfowl  will  be  crying  to  each 
other,  and  the  sheep  v/ili  be  bleating,  oh  yes,  and 
there  are  the  bees  all  round,  and  a  string  of  wild 
ducks  above  your  head.  It  iss  a  busy  place  a 
moor,  and  a  safe  place  too,  for  there  is  not  one  of 
the  animals  will  hurt  you.  No,  the  big  high- 
landers  will  only  look  at  you  and  go  away  to 
their  pasture.  But  it  iss  weary  to  be  in  London, 
and  no  one  to  speak  a  kind  word  to  you,  and  I 
will  be  looking  at  the  crowd  that  is  always 
passing,  and  I  will  not  see  one  kent  face,  and 
when  I  looked  in  at  the  lighted  windows  the 
people  were  all  sitting  round  the  table,  but  there 
wass  no  place  for  me.  Millions  and  millions  of 
people,  and  not  one  to  say  'Flora,'  and  not  one 
sore  heart  if  I  died  that  night.  Then  a  strange 
thing  happened,  as  you  will  be  considering,  but 
it  iss  good  to  be  a  Highlander,  for  we  see  visions. 
You  maybe  know  that  a  wounded  deer  will  try 
to  hide  herself,  and  I  crept  into  the  shadow  of  a 
church,   and    vept.     Then   the   people   and    the 


136  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

noise  and  the  houses  passed  away  like  the  mist 
on  the  hill,  and  I  wass  walking  to  the  kirk  with 
my  father,  oh  yes,  and  I  saw  you  all  in  your 
places,  and  I  heard  the  Psalms,  and  I  could  see 
through  the  window  the  green  fields  and  the 
trees  on  the  edge  of  the  moor.  And  I  saw  my 
home,  with  the  dogs  before  the  door,  and  the 
flowers  that  I  planted,  and  the  lamb  coming 
for  her  milk,  and  I  heard  myself  singing,  and  I 
awoke.  But  there  wass  singing,  oh  yes,  and 
beautiful  too,  for  the  dark  church  wass  open,  and 
the  light  wass  falling  over  my  head  from  the  face 
of  the  Virgin  Mary.  When  I  arose  she  wass 
looking  down  at  me  in  the  darkness,  and  then  I 
knew  that  there  wass  service  in  the  church,  and 
this  wass  the  hymn — 

"  There  is  a  fountaim  filled  with  blood." 

So  I  went  in  and  sat  down  at  the  door.  The 
sermon  wass  on  the  Prodigal  Son,  but  there  iss 
only  one  word  I  remember.  *  You  are  not 
forgotten  or  cast  off,'  the  preacher  said  :  '  you  are 
missed,'  and  then  he  will  come  back  to  it  again, 
and  it  wass  always  'missed,  missed,  missed.' 
Sometimes  he  will  say,  *  If  you  had  a  plant,  and 
you  had  taken  great  care  of  it,  and  it  was  stolen, 
would  you  not  miss  it } '  And  I  will  be  thinking 
of  my  geraniums,  and  saying  *yes  '  in  my  heart. 
And  then  he  will  go  on,  '  If  a  shepherd  wass 
counting   his  sheep,    and  there  wass  one  short. 


LIKE  AS  A  FA  THER.  I37 

does  he  not  go  out  to  the  hill  and  seek  for  it  ? ' 
and  I  will  see  my  father  coming  back  with  that 
lamb  that  lost  its  mother.  My  heart  wass  melting 
within  me,  but  he  will  still  be  pleading,  'If  a 
father  had  a  child,  and  she  left  her  home  and 
lost  herself  in  the  wicked  city,  she  will  still  be 
remembered  in  the  old  house,  and  her  chair  will 
be  there,'  and  I  will  be  seeing  my  father  all  alone 
with  the  Bible  before  him,  and  the  dogs  will  lay 
their  heads  on  his  knee,  but  there  iss  no  Flora. 
So   I   slipped   out   into   the   darkness    and   cried 

*  Father/  but  I  could  not  go  back,  and  I  knew 
not  what  to  do.     But  this  wass  ever  in  my  ear, 

*  missed,'  and  I  wass  wondering  if  God  will  be 
thinking  of  me.  '  Perhaps  there  may  be  a  sign/ 
I  said,  and  I  went  to  my  room,  and  I  saw  the 
letter.  It  wass  not  long  before  I  will  be  in  the 
train,  and  all  the  night  I  held  your  letter  in  my 
hand,  and  when  I  wass  afraid  I  will  read  '  Your 
father  loves  you  more  than  efer,'  and  I  will  say, 
'This  is  my  warrant.'  Oh  yes,  and  God  wass 
very  good  to  me,  and  I  did  not  want  for  friends 
all  the  way  home. 

"The  English  guard  noticed  me  cry,  and  he 
will  take  care  of  me  all  the  night,  and  see  me  off 
at  Muirtown,  and  this  iss  what  he  will  say  as  the 
train  wass  leaving,  in  his  cheery  English  way 
'Keep  up  your  heart,  lass,  there's  a  good  time 
coming,'  and  Peter  Bruce  will  be  waiting  for  me 
at   the  Junction,    and   a  gentle   man    iss    Peter 


138  LAC H LAN  CAMPBELL, 

Bruce,  and  Maister  Moncur  will  be  singing  a 
psalm  to  keep  up  my  heart,  and  I  will  see  the 
light,  and  then  I  will  know  that  the  Lord  hass 
had  mercy  upon  me.  That  is  all  I  have  to  tell 
you,  Marget,  for  the  rest  I  will  be  saying  to 
God." 

"But  there  iss  something  I  must  be  telling/' 
said  Lachlan,  coming  in,  **  and  it  is  not  easy." 

He  brought  over  the  Bible  and  opened  it  at  the 
family  register  v/he^'e  his  daughter's  name  had 
been  erased  ;  ther.  h:^  laid  it  down  before  Flora, 
and  bowed  his  he:.d  on  the  bed. 

"  Will  you  ever  be  able  to  forgive  your 
father  ? " 

"Give  m^e  the  pen,  Marget  ;  "  and  Flora  VvTote 
for  a  minute,  but  Lachlan  never  moved. 

When  he  lifted  his  head,  this  was  what  he  read 
in  a  vacant  space  : — 

Flora  Campbell. 

Missed  April  1873. 

Found  September  1873. 

**  Her  father  fell  on  her  neck  and  kissed  her." 


IV. 

AS  A  LITTLE  CHILD. 

Drumtochty  made  up  its  mind  slowly  upon 
any  new-comer,  and  for  some  time  looked  into 
the  far  distance  when  his  name  was  mentioned. 
He  himself  was  struck  with  the  studied  indiffer- 
ence of  the  parish,  and  lived  under  the  delusion 
that  he  had  escaped  notice.  Perhaps  he  might 
have  felt  uncomfortable  i^  he  had  suspected  that 
he  was  under  a  microscope,  and  the  keenest  eyes 
in  the  country  were  watching  every  movement  at 
kirk  and  market.  His  knowledge  of  theology, 
his  preference  in  artificial  manures,  his  wife's 
Sabbath  dress,  his  skill  in  cattle,  and  his  manner 
in  the  Kildrummie  train,  went  as  evidence  in  the 
case,  and  were  duly  weighed.  Some  morning 
the  floating  opinion  suddenly  crystallized  in  the 
kirkyard,  and  there  is  only  one  historical  instance 
in  which  judgment  was  reversed.  It  was  a  strong 
proof  of  Lachlan  Campbell's  individuality  that  he 
impressed  himself  twice  on  the  parish,  and  each 
time  with  a  marked  adjective. 

Lachlan  had  been  superintending  the  theology 

139 


140  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

of  the  glen  and  correcting  our  ignorance  from  an 
unapproachable  height  for  two  years  before  th« 
word  went  forth,  but  the  glen  had  been  thinking. 

"  Lachlan  is  a  carefu'  shepherd  and  fine  wi'  the 
ewes  at  the  lambing  time,  there's  nae  doot  o' 
that,  but  a'  canna  thole  (bear)  himsel'.  Ye  wud 
think  there  was  nae  releegion  in  the  parish  till 
he  came  frae  Auchindarroch.  What  say  ye, 
Domsie  ?  " 

"Campbell's  a  censorious  body,  Drumsheugh," 
and  Domsie  shut  his  snuff-box  lid  with  a  snap. 

Drumsheugh  nodded  to  the  fathers  of  our  com- 
monwealth, and  they  went  into  kirk  with  silent 
satisfaction.  Lachlan  had  been  classified,  and 
Peter  Bruce,  who  prided  himself  on  keeping  in 
touch  with  Drumtochty,  passed  the  word  round 
the  Kildrummie  train  next  market  night. 

"  Ye  haena  that  censorious  body,  Lachlan 
Campbell,  wi'  ye  the  nicht,"  thrusting  his  head  in 
on  the  thirds. 

"There's  naething  Peter  disna  ken,"  Hillocks 
remarked  with  admiration  afterwards;  "he's  as 
gude  as  the  Advertiser" 

When  Flora  had  come  home,  and  Drumtochty 
resumed  freedom  of  criticism,  I  noticed  for  the 
first  time  a  certain  vacillation  in  its  treatment  of 
Lachlan. 

"  He's  pluckit  up  his  speerit  maist  extraordinar," 
Hillocks  explained,  "  and  he  whuppit  by  me  like 
a  three-year-auld  laist  Sabbath. 


.^^.  ,'% 


il"'-c    l-'i  'ill  I 


mm 


/  / 


Lachlan  was  sitting  on  a  chair  . 
on  liis  knee.'" 


with  Elsie 


AS  A  LITTLE  CHILD,  X41 

**  *  rm  glad  tae  hear  the  Miss  is  comin'  roond 
fine,'  says  I. 

* '  '  It's  the  fouk  o'  Drumtochty  hes  made  her 
Weel.  God  bless  you,  for  you  hev  done  good  for 
evil,'  and  wi'  that  he  was  aff  afore  I  cud  fin'  a 
word. 

"He's  changed,  the  body,  some  wy  or  ither, 
and  there's  a  kind  o'  warmth  aboot  him  ye  canna 
get  ower," 

Next  day  I  turned  into  Mrs.  Macfadyen's  cot- 
tage for  a  cup  of  tea  and  the  smack  of  that  wise 
woman's  conversation,  but  was  not  able  to  pass 
the  inner  door  for  the  sight  which  met  my  eyes. 

Lachlan  was  sitting  on  a  chair  in  the  middle  of 
the  kitchen  v/ith  Elsie,  Mrs.  Macfadyen's  pet  child, 
on  his  knee,  and  their  heads  so  close  tog  ther 
that  his  white  hair  was  mingling  with  her  bur- 
nished gold  An  odor  of  peppermint  floated  out 
at  the  door,  and  Elsie  was  explaining  to  Lachlan, 
for  his  guidance  at  the  shop,  that  the  round  drops 
were  a  better  bargain  than  the  black  and  white 
rock. 

When  Lachlan  had  departed,  with  gracious 
words  on  his  Hps  and  a  very  sticky  imprint  on 
his  right  cheek,  I  settled  down  in  the  big  chair, 
beyond  the  power  of  speech,  and  Mrs.  Macfadyen 
opened  the  mystery. 

"Ye  may  weel  look,  for  twa  months  syne  I 
wudna  hae  believed  this  day,  though  a'  hed  seen 
him  wi'  ma  ain  een. 


142  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

**  It  was  juist  this  time  laist  year  that  he  cam 
here  on  his  elder's  veesitation,  and  he  catches  the 
bairn  in  this  verra  kitchen. 

"  'Elspeth,'  says  he — it  was  Elsie  the  day,  ye 
mind — *  div  ye  ken  that  ye're  an  oreeginal  sinner  ? ' 

**It  was  nichtfa'  afore  she  got  over  the  fricht, 
and  when  she  saw  him  on  the  road  next  Sabbath, 
she  cooried  in  ahint  ma  goon,  and  cried  till  I 
thocht  her  hert  wud  break. 

"  'It's  meeserable  wark  for  Christ's  Elder,'  says 
Jeems,  *  tae  put  the  fear  o'  death  on  a  bairn,  and 
a'm  thinkin'  he  wudna  get  muckle  thanks  frae  his 
Maister  if  he  was  here/  and  Jeems  wasna  far 
wrong,  though,  of  course,  a'  told  him  tae  keep  a 
quiet  sough,  and  no  conter  the  elder. 

**  Weel,  I  sees  Lachlan  comin'  up  the  road  the 
day,  and  a'  ran  oot  to  catch  Elsie  and  hide  her  in 
the  byre.  But  a'  micht  hae  saved  mysel'  the 
trouble  :  afore  I  got  tae  the  gairden  gate  they 
were  comin*  up  as  chief  (friendly)  as  ye  like,  and 
Lachlan  was  calling  Elsie  his  bonnie  dawtie. 

"  If  he  hadna  a  pock  o'  peppermints — but  it 
wasna  that  wiled  Elsie's  hert.  Na,  na,  dogs  and 
bairns  can  read  fouks'  faces,  and  mak  nae  mis- 
takes. As  sune  as  a'  saw  Lachlan's  een  a'  kent 
he  wes  a  new  man. 

**Hoo  has  it  come  about.?  That's  easy  tae 
guess.  Sax  months  syne  Lachlan  didna  ken 
what  father  meant,  and  the  heart  wes  wizened  in 
the  breist  o'  him  wi'  pride  and  diveenity. 


AS  A  LITTLE  CHILD.  143 

"He  kens  noo,  and  a'm  jalousing  that  nae 
man  can  be  a  richt  father  tae  his  ain  without 
being  sib  (akin)  tae  every  bairn  he  sees.  It  was 
Flora  he  was  dawting  (petting)  ye  see  the  day, 
and  he's  learned  his  trade  weel,  though  it  cost 
him  a  sair  lesson." 

Wonderful  stories  circulated  through  the  glen, 
and  were  told  in  the  kirkyard  of  a  Sabbath  morn- 
ing, concerning  the  transformation  of  Lachlan 
Campbell. 

"  Ane  o'  ma  wee  lassies,  expatiated  Domsie,  fell 
comin'  doon  the  near  road  frae  Whinnie  Knowe, 
and  cuttit  her  cheek  on  the  stones,  and  if  Lachlan 
didna  wash  her  face  and  comfort  her  ;  an'  mair, 
he  carried  her  a'  the  road  tae  the  schule,  and  says 
he  in  his  Hieland  way,  *  Here  iss  a  brave  little 
woman  that  hass  hurt  herself,  but  she  will  not  be 
crying,'  and  he  gave  her  a  kiss  and  a  penny  tae 
buy  some  sweeties  at  the  shop.  It  minded  me 
o'  the  Gude  Samaritan,  fouks,"  and  everybody 
understood  that  Lachlan  had  captured  Domsie 
for  life. 

"  It  beats  a'  things,"  said  Whinnie  ;  ''a'  canna 
mak'  oot  what's  come  ower  the  cratur.  There's 
a  puckle  o'  the  upland  bairns  pass  oor  wy  frae 
schule,  and  whiles  Lachlan  'ill  meet  them  when 
he's  aifter  his  sheep,  and  as  sure  as  I'm  stannin' 
here,  he  'ill  lay  aff  stories  aboot  battles  and  fairies, 
till  the  laddies  'ill  hardly  gae  hame.  I  v/es  telling 
Marget  this  verra  mornin',  and  she  says,  '  Lach- 


144  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL, 

lan's  become  as  a  little  child'  I  dinna  haud  wi' 
her  there,  but  a  quieter,  mair  cautious  body  ye 
never  saw." 

Drumtochty  was  doing  its  best  to  focus  Lachlan 
afresh,  and  felt  the  responsibility  lay  on  Domsie, 
who  accepted  it  cheerfully. 

*'  Market's  aye  riclit,  neebors,  and  she's  put 
the  word  on  it  n_>o.  His  tribble  hes  melted 
Lachlan's  heart,  an'  —it's  in  the  Evangel,  ye  ken 
— he's  become  as  a  'ttle  child." 

This  language  wa  5  too  figurative  and  imposing 
for  the  parish,  but  H  ran  henceforward  in  our 
modest  speech,  "Be  s  a  cautious  body."  Cau- 
tious, with  us,  mea-;i  unassuming,  kindly  oblig- 
ing, as  well  as  rru'jh  more  ;  and  I  still  hear 
Drumsheugh  prone ui^cing  this  final  judgment  of 
the  glen  on  Lachla/.  as  we  parted  at  his  grave  ten 
years  later,  and  aoning,  "■  He  'ill  be  sair  missed 
by  the  bairns." 

While  the  glen  was  readjusting  itself  to  Lach- 
lan, I  came  down  from  a  long  tramp  on  the 
moor,  and  intended  to  inquire  for  Flora.  But  I 
was  arrested  on  the  step  by  the  sound  of  Lach- 
lan's voice  in  family  worship. 

"This  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again  ;  he 
was  lost,  and  is  found.  And  they  began  to  be 
merry. " 

Lachlan's  voice  trembled  as  he  read,  but  he 
went  on  with  much  firmness  : 

"  Now  his  elder  son  was  in  the  field." 


AS  A  LITTLE  CHILD.  145 

"You  will  not  be  reading  more  of  that  chapter, 
father/'  interrupted  Flora,  with  a  new  note  of 
authority. 

"And  why  not?''  said  Lachlan,  quite  humbly. 

'*  Because  you  will  be  calling  yourself  the  elder 
son  and  many  more  bad  names,  and  I  will  be 
angry  with  you." 

"But  they  are  true  names,  and  it  iss  good  far  me 
to  know  myself." 

"You  hef  just  one  true  name,  and  that  is  father. 
And  DOW  you  wull  be  singing  a  psalm." 

"There  iss  a  book  of  himes  (hymns)  here,  and 
maybe  you  will  be  liking  one  of  them." 

And  Lachlan  produced  the  little  book  Flora  got 
in  that  London  church  when  the  preacher  told  her 
she  was  missed. 

"We  will  not  sing  hymns,  father,  for  I  am 
remembering  that  you  hef  a  conscience  against 
hymns,  and  I  did  not  know  that  you  had  that 
book." 

"  My  conscience  was  sometimes  better  than  the 
Bible,  Flora,  and  if  God  will  be  sending  a  hime 
to  bind  up  your  heart  when  it  wass  broken,  it  iss 
your  father  that  will  be  wanting  to  sing  that  hime. 

"  It  iss  here,"  continued  Lachlan  in  trmmph, 
"  for  I  hef  often  been  reading  that  hime,  and  I  am 
not  seeing  much  wrong  in  it." 

"  But  each  hymn  hass  got  its  own  tune,  father, 
and  you  will  not  know  the  way  that  it  goes,  and 
the  doctor  will  not  be  wishing  me  to  sing/* 


146  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

"You  are  a  good  girl,  Flora,  but  you  are 
not  so  clever  as  your  father,  oh  no,  for  I  hef 
been  trying  that  hime  on  the  hill,  and  it  will  sing 
beautiful  to  a  Psalm  tune.  You  will  lie  still  and 
hear." 

Then  Lachlan  lifted  up  his  voice  in   ''French," 

**  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood, 
Drawn  from  Immr  luel's  veins, 
And  sinners  pi  nged  beneath  that  flood 
Lose  all  their  guilty  stains." 

The  singing  was  fairly  good,  with  a  whisper 
from  Flora,  till  they  came  to  that  verse  : 

"  Then  in  a  nobler,  sweeter  song 

I'll  sing  Thy  po    er  to  save, 
When  this  poor  lisping,  stammering  tongue 
Lies  silent  in  the  grave," 

when  Lachlan  seemed  to  lose  the  tune,  nd  be 
falling  into  a  coronach. 

' '  We  must  not  be  si-iging  that  to-day,  father, 
for  God  is  fery  good  to  us,  and  I  will  be  stronger 
every  week,  and  maybe  you  will  br  snying  that 
we  are  thankful  in  your  pr  y:r.  ' 

Then  I  realized  my  baseness,  and  went  off  on 
tiptoe  (had  the  dogs  been  at  home  it  had  not  been 
so  easy  to  escape);  but  fint  I  heard,  **Our 
Father. "  It  was  a  new  word  for  Lachlan  ;  he 
used  to  say  Jehovah. 

The  doctor  paid  his  last  vi-it  one  frosty  winter 
day,  and  was  merciless  on  Lachlan. 


i 


AS  A  LITTLE  CHILD.  147 

*'What  for  are  ye  cockering  up  this  lassie,  and 
no  getting  her  doon  tae  the  kirk  ?  it's  clean  dis- 
gracefu'  in  an  Elder,  and  if  I  were  yir  minister  a' 
wud  hae  ye  sessioned.  Sail,  ye're  hard  enough 
on  ither  fouk  that  are  no  kirk  greedy." 

"You  will  not  be  speaknig  that  way  next 
Sabbath,  for  it  iss  in  her  pew  Flora  will  be  sitting 
with  her  father,"  said  Lachlan,  in  great  spirits. 

Flora  caught  him  studying  her  closely  for  some 
days,  as  if  he  were  taking  her  measure,  and  he 
announced  that  he  had  business  in  Muirtown  on 
Friday. 

When  he  came  up  in  the  market  train  he  was 
carrying  a  large  paper  parcel,  and  attempted  a 
joke  with  Peter  at  a  window  of  the  third.  From  a 
critical  point  of  view  it  was  beneath  notice,  but  as 
Lachlan 's  first  effort  it  was  much  tasted. 

"Ye  'ill  believe  me  noo,  Peter,  since  ye"ve  heard 
him.  Did  ye  ever  see  sic  a  change  ?  its  maist 
asto-  ishin'." 

"  IMan,  Hillocks,  div  ye  no  see  he's  gotten 
back  his  dochter,  and  it's  made  him  anither 
man  ? " 

Lachlan  showed  Flora  a  new  pair  of  shears  he 
had  bought  in  Muirtown,  and  a  bottle  of  sheep 
embrocation,  but  she  did  not  know  he  had  hidden 
his  parcel  in  the  byre,  and  that  he  opened  it  four 
separate  times  on  Saturday. 

From  daybreak  on  Sabbath  Lachlan  went  in 
ftnd  out  till  he  returned  with  Marget  Howe. 


148  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

"Mrs.  Howe  iss  very  kind,  and  she  will  be 
coming  to  help  you  with  your  dresses,  Flora,  for 
we  will  be  wanting  you  to  look  well  this  day,  and 
here  is  some  small  thing  to  keep  you  warm,"  and 
Lachlan  produced  with  unspeakable  pride  a  jacket 
lined  with  flannel  and  trimmed  with  fur. 

So  her  father  and  Marget  dressed  Flora  for  the 
kirk,  and  they  went  together  down  the  path  on 
which  the  light  had  shone  that  night  of  her 
return. 

There  were  only  two  dog-carts  in  the  Free  Kirk 
Session,  and  Burnbrae  was  waiting  with  his  for 
Flora  at  the  foot  of  the  hill. 

"I  bid  ye  welcome,  Flora,  in  the  name  o'  oor 
kirk.  It's  a  gled  day  for  your  father,  and  for  us 
a'  tae  see  you  back  again  and  strong.  And  noo 
ye  'ill  just  get  up  aside  me  in  the  front,  and 
Mistress  Hoo  'ill  hap  ye  round,  for  we  maunna 
let  ye  come  tae  ony  ill  the  first  day  yir  oot,  or  we 
'ill  never  hear  the  end  o't. "  And  so  the  honest 
man  went  on,  for  he  was  as  near  the  breaking  as 
Drumtochty  nature  allowed. 

"A'  body's  pleased,"  said  Marget  to  Lachlan 
as  they  sat  on  the  back  seat  and  caught  the  faces 
of  the  people.  ' '  This  is  the  first  time  I  have  seen 
the  fifteenth  of  Luke  in  Drumtochty.  It's  a  bon- 
nie  sicht,  and  a'm  thinkin'  it's  still  bonnier  in  the 
presence  o'  the  angels." 

"  Flora  Cammil's  in  the  kirk  the  day,"  and  the 
precentor  looked  at  Carmichael  wath  expectation. 


AS  A  LITTLE  CHILD.  149 

"The  fouk  are  terrible  taen  up  wi'  Lachlan  and 
her." 

**What  do  ye  think  of  the  hundred  and  third 
Psalm,  Robert  ?     It  would  go  well  this  morning-." 

"The  verra  word  that  was  on  my  lips,  and 
Lachlan  'ill  be  lookin'  for  Coleshill." 

Lachlan  had  put  Flora  in  his  old  place  next  the 
wall  (he  would  not  need  it  again,  having  retired 
from  the  office  of  inquisitor),  and  sat  close  beside 
her,  with  great  contentment  on  his  face.  The 
manners  of  Drumtochty  were  perfect,  and  no  one 
turned  his  head  l)y  one  inch  ;  but  Marget  Kowe, 
sitting  behind  in  Burnbrae's  pew,  saw  Flora's 
hand  go  out  to  Lachlan's  as  the  people  sang  : 

"  All  thine  iniquities  who  doth 
Most  graciously  forgive, 
Who  thy  diseases  all  and  pains 
Doth  heal  and  thee  relieve." 

The  Session  met  that  week,  and- a  young  girl 
broke  down  utterly  in  her  examination  for  the 
Sacrament,  so  that  not  even  Burnbrae  could  get 
a  correct  answer. 

She  rose  in  great  confusion  and  sorrow. 

"A'  see  it  wudna  be  fit  for  the  like  o'  me  tae 
gae  forrit,  but  a  had  set  ma  hert  on't ;  it  wes  the 
last  thing  He  askit  o'  His  freends,"  and  she  left 
before  any  one  could  bid  her  stay. 

"Moderator,"  said  Lachlan,  "it  is  a  great  joy 
for  me  to  move  that  IMary  ]\Iacfarlane  get  her 
token,  and  I  will  be  wishing  that  we  all  had  her 


150  LA CHLAN  CAMPBELL. 

warrant,  oh  yes,  for  there  iss  no  \varrant  like  love. 
And  there  iss  somethmg  that  I  must  be  asking  of 
the  elders,  and  it  iss  to  forgive  me  for  my  pride 
in  this  Session.  I  wass  thinking  that  I  knew 
more  than  any  man  in  Drumtochty,  and  wass 
judging  God's  people.  But  He  hass  had  mercy 
upon  Simon  the  Pharisee,  and  you  hef  all  been 
very  good  to  me  and  Flora.  .  .  .  The  Scripture 
hass  been  fulfilled,  *  So  the  last  shall  be  first,  and 
the  first  last.'" 

Then  the  minister  asked  Burnbrae  to  pray,  and 
the  Spirit  descended  on  that  good  man,  of  simple 
heart  : 

"Almichty  Father,  we  are  a'  Thy  puir  and 
sinfu'  bairns,  wha  wearied  o'  hameand  gaed  awa' 
intae  the  far  country.  Forgive  us,  for  we  didna 
ken  what  we  were  leavin'  or  the  sairhert  we  gied 
oor  Father.  It  was  weary  wark  tae  live  wi'  oor 
sins,  but  we  wud  never  hev  come  back  had  it  no 
been  for  oor  Elder  Brither.  He  cam'  a  long  road 
tae  find  us,  and  a  sore  travail  He  had  afore  He 
set  us  free.  He's  been  a  gude  Brither  tae  us, 
and  we've  been  a  heavy  chairge  tae  Him.  May 
He  keep  a  firm  baud  o'  us,  and  guide  us  in  the 
richt  road,  and  bring  us  back  gin  we  wander,  and 
tell  us  a'  we  need  tae  know  till  the  gloamin' 
come.  Gither  us  in  then,  we  pray  Thee,  and  a' 
we  luve,  no  a  bairn  missin',  and  may  we  sit  doon 
for  ever  in  oor  ain  Father's  House.     Amen. " 


AS  A  LITTLE  CHILD.  151 

As  Burnbrae  said  Amen,  Carmichael  opened 
his  eyes,  and  had  a  vision  which  will  remain  with 
him  until  the  day  break  and  the  shadows  flee 
away. 

The  six  elders — three  small  farmers,  a  tailor,  a 
stonemason,  and  a  shepherd — were  standing  be- 
neath the  tamp,  and  the  light  fell  like  a  halo  on 
their  bent  heads.  That  poor  little  vetstry  had 
disappeared,  and  this  present  world  wap.  forgotten. 
The  sons  of  God  had  come  into  their  heritage, 
"for  the  things  which  are  seen  are  temporc^>  but 
the  things  which  are  not  seen  are  eteraaL'* 


THE  CUNNING  SPEECH  OF 
DRUMTOCHTY. 


THE  CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY. 

Speech  in  Drumtochty  distilled  slowly,  drop  by 
drop,  and  the  faces  of  our  men  were  carved  in 
stone.  Visitors,  without  discernment,  used  to 
pity  our  dulness  and  lay  themselves  out  for  mis- 
sionary work.  Before  their  month  was  over 
they  spoke  bitterly  of  us,  as  if  we  had  deceived 
them,  and  departed  with  a  grudge  in  their  hearts. 
When  Hillocks  scandalized  the  Glen  by  letting 
his  house  and  living  in  the  bothie — through  sheer 
greed  of  money — it  was  taken  by  a  fussy  little 
man  from  the  South,  whose  control  over  the 
letter  "h"  was  uncertain,  but  whose  self-confi- 
dence bordered  on  the  miraculous.  As  a  deacon 
of  the  Social  Religionists, — a  new  denomination, 
which  had  made  an  'it  with  Sunday  Entertain- 
ments,— and  Chairman  of  the  Amalgamated  Sons 
of  Rest, — a  society  of  persons  with  conscientious 
objections  to  work  between  meals — he  was  hor- 
rifled  at  the  primeval  simplicity  of  the  Glen, 
where  no  meeting  of  protest  had  been  held  in 
the  memory  of  living  man,  and  the  ministers 
preached  from  the  Bible.  It  was  understood  that 
he  was  to  do  his  best  for  us,  and  there  was  curi- 
osity in  the  kirkyard. 

IS5 


156     CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY, 

**Whatna  like  man  is  that  Englisk  veesitor 
ye've  got,  Hillocks?  a' hear  he's  fleein'  ower  the 
glen,  yammerin'  and  haverin'  like  a  starlin'." 

''He's  a  gabby  (talkative)  body,  Drumsheugh, 
there's  nae  doot  o'  that,  but  terrible  ignorant." 

"Says  he  tae  me  nae  later  than  yesterday. 
'That's  a  fine  field  o'  barley  ye've  here,  Maister 
Harris,'  an'  as  sure  as  deith  a'  didrri  ken  whaur 
tae  luik,  for  it  was  a  puckle  aits." 

"Keep's  a',"  said  Whicnie  ;  "he's  -.cr^n  awfu* 
negleckit  when  he  was  a  bairn,  or  ma  .;:•(;  there's 
a  want  in  the  puir  cratur." 

Next  Sabbath  Mr.  Urijah  Hopps  a  r  eared  in 
person  among  the  fathers — who  look:d  at  each 
other  over  his  head — and  enlightene.i  them  on 
supply  and  demand,  the  Game  Laws,  the  pro- 
duction of  cabbages  for  towns,  the  iniquity  of  an 
Established  Church,  and  the  bad  metre  of  the 
Psalms  of  David. 

"You  must 'ave  henterprise,  or  it's  hall  hup 
with  you  farmers. " 

"Ay,  ay,"  responded  Drumsheugh,  after  a  long 
pause,  and  then  every  man  concentrated  his  atten- 
tion on  the  belfry  of  the  kirk. 

"Is  there  on y thing  ava'  in  the  body,  think  ye, 
Domsie,"  as  Mr.  Hopps  bustled  into  kirk,  "or 
is't  a'  wind  ?  '* 

"Three  wechtfu's  o'  naething,  Drumsheugh; 
a'  peety  the  puir  man  if  Jamie  Soutar  gets  a  haud 
o'him.'' 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  Dk  JMTOCHTY.     157 

Jamie  was  the  cynic  of  rlio  Glen — who  had 
pricked  many  a  wind  bag — a  d  'here  was  a  general 
feeling  that  his  meeting  wi  h  Mr.  Hopps  would 
not  be  devoid  of  interest.  ^\\\ 3n  he  showed  him- 
self anxious  to  learn  next  Sc  l;bath,  any  man  out- 
side Drumtochty  might  have  been  deceived,  for 
Jamie  could  withdraw  every  iign  of  intelligence 
from  his  face,  as  when  shuttci  ^  close  upon  a  shop 
window.  Our  visitor  fell  at  r-nce  into  the  trap, 
and  made  things  plain  to  the  meanest  capacity, 
until  Jamie  elicited  from  the  guileless  Southron 
that  he  had  never  heard  of  tl'  t-  Act  of  Union  ;  that 
Adam  Smith  was  a  new  bool-'  he  hoped  to  buy ; 
that  he  did  not  know  the  dili-rence  between  an 
Arminian  and  a  Calvinist,  ai.i  that  he  supposed 
the  Confession  of  Faith  was  invented  in  Edin- 
burgh. This  in  the  briefest  spree  of  time,  and  by 
way  of  information  to  Drumto:hty.  James  was 
making  for  general  literature,  and  had  still  agri- 
culture in  reserve,  when  Drumsheugh  intervened 
in  the  humanity  of  his  heart. 

"  A*  dinna  like  tae  interrupt  yir  conversation, 
Maister  Hopps,  but  it's  no  verra  safe  for  ye  tae 
be  stannin'  here  sae  lang.  Oor  air  hes  a  bit  nip 
in't,  and  is  mairsearchin'  than  doon  Sooth.  Jamie 
'ill  be  speirin'  a'  mornin'  gin  ye  'ill  answer  him, 
but  a'm  thinkin'  ye  'ill  be  -varmer  in  the  kirk." 

And  Drumsheugh  escort-d  Mr.  Hopps  to  cover, 
who  began  to  suspect  that  ^z  had  been  turned  in- 
side out,  and  found  wantin.- 


158       CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY. 

Dnimtochty  had  listened  with  huge  delight, 
but  without  a  trace  of  expression,  and,  on  Mr. 
Hopps  reaching  shelter,  three  boxes  were  offered 
Jamie. 

The  group  was  still  lost  in  admiration  when 
Drumsheugh  returned  from  his  errand  of  mercy, 

"Sail,  ye've  dune  the  job  this  time,  Jamie. 
Ye're  an  awfu'  creetic.  Yon  man  'ill  keep  a  quiet 
cheep  till  he  gets  Sooth.  It  passes  me  hoo  a 
body  wi'  sae  little  in  him  hes  the  face  tae  open 
his  mooth." 

"Ye  did  it  weel,  Jamie,"  Domsie  added,  "a 
clean  furrow  Irae  end  tae  end." 

"Toots,  fouk,  yir  makin' ower  muckleo'  it.  It 
wes  licht  grund,  no  worth  puttin'  in  a  ploo." 

Mr.  Hopps  explained  to  me,  before  leaving, 
that  he  had  been  much  pleased  with  the  scenery 
of  our  Glen,  but  disappointed  in  the  people. 

"They  may  not  be  hignorant,"  said  the  little 
man  doubtfully,  "but  no  man  could  call  them 
haffable." 

It  flashed  on  me  for  the  first  time  that  perhaps 
there  may  have  been  the  faintest  want  of  genial- 
ity in  the  Drumtochty  manner,  but  it  was  simply 
the  reticence  of  a  subtle  and  conscientious  people. 
Intellect  with  us  had  been  brought  to  so  fine  an 
edge  by  the  Shorter  Catechism  that  it  could  detect 
endless  distinctions,  and  was  ever  on  the  watch 
against  inaccuracy.  Farmers  who  could  state 
the  esoteric  doctrine  of  *  *  spiritual  independence  " 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY.     159 

between  the  stilts  of  the  plough,  and  talked  famiU 
iarly  of  "co-ordinate  jurisdiction  with  mutual 
subordination.''  >,'ere  not  likely  to  fall  into  the 
vice  of  generalization.  When  James  Soutar  was 
in  good  fettle,  he  could  trace  the  whole  history 
of  Scottish  secession  from  the  beginning,  wind- 
ing his  way  through  the  maze  of  Original  Seceders 
and  Cameronians,  Burghers  and  Anti-Burghers — 
there  were  days  when  he  would  include  the 
Glassites, — with  unfaltering  step  :  but  this  was 
considered  a  feat  even  in  Drumtochty,  and  it  was 
admitted  that  Jamie  had  "  a  gift  o'  discreemina- 
tion."  We  all  had  the  gift  in  measure,  and  dared 
not  therefore  allow  ourselves  the  expansive  lan- 
guage of  the  South.  What  right  had  any  human 
being  to  fling  about  superlative  adjectives,  seeing 
what  a  big  place  the  world  is,  and  how  little  we 
know?  Purple  adjectives  would  have  been  as 
much  out  of  place  in  our  conversation  as  a  bird 
of  paradise  among  our  muirfowl. 

Mr.  Hopps  was  so  inspired  by  one  of  our  swn- 
sets — to  his  credit  let  that  be  told — that  he  tried 
to  drive  Jamie  into  extravagance. 

**Nobad!  I  call  it  glorious,  and  if  it  hisn't, 
then  I'd  like  to  know  what  his." 

"  Man,"  replied  Soutar  austerely,  **  ye  'ill  surely 
keep  ae  word  for  the  twenty-first  o'  Reevelation." 

Had  any  native  used  "magnificent,"  there 
would  have  been  an  uneasy  feeling  in  the  Glen  : 
the  man  must  be  suffering  from  wind  in  the  head, 


1 6  o     C  UNNING  SPEE  CH  OF  DR  UMTOCHTY. 

and  might  upset  the  rotation  of  crops,  sowing-  his 
young  grass  after  potatoes,  or  replacing  turnip 
with  beetroot.  But  nothing  of  that  sort  happened 
in  my  time  ;  we  kept  ourselves  well  in  hand.  It 
rained  in  torrents  elsewhere,  with  us  it  only 
"threatened  tae  be  weet  — some  provision  had 
to  be  made  for  the  deluge.  Strangers,  in  the 
pride  of  health,  described  themselves  as  "fit  for 
anything,"  but  Hillocks,  who  died  at  ninety-two, 
and  never  had  an  hour's  illness,  did  not  venture, 
in  his  prime,  beyond  "Gaein'  aboot,  a'm  thankfu* 
to  say,  gaein'  aboot." 

When  one  was  seriously  ill,  he  was  said  to  be 
"  gey  an'  sober,"  i  :id  r.j  one  died  in  Drumtochty 
—  "heslippit  awa.'*' 

Hell  and  Heaven  -v  r-^e  pulpit  words  ;  in  private 
life  we  spoke  of  "tii^  ill  place"  and  "  oor  lang 
hame. " 

When  the  corn  sp-;  ted  in  the  stooks  one  late 
wet  harvest,  and  B  ^i  .brae  lost  half  his  capital, 
he  only  said,  "If:  i.o  lichtsome,"  and  no  con- 
gratulations on  a  •^>od  harvest  ever  extracted 
more  from  DrumsL-ugh  than  "A'  daurna  com- 
plain." 

Drumsheugh  mi,;ht  be  led  beyond  bounds  in 
reviewing  a  certain  potato  transaction,  but,  as  a 
rule,  he  was  a  master  of  measured  speech.  After 
the  privilege  of  much  mtercourse  with  that  ex- 
cellent man,  I  was  able  to  draw  up  his  table  of 
equivalents  for  the  three  degrees  of  wickedness. 


CUNNING  S-I EECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY.     i6l 

When  there  wa^  j-iyt  a  suspicion  of  trickiness — 
neglecting  the  paling  between  your  cattle  and 
your  neighbor's  cH  er  field — "  He's  no  juist  the 
man  for  an  elder. "  Tf  it  deepened  into  deceit — 
running  a  ''  greas}  '  jorse  for  an  hour  before  sell- 
ing— "  Hewudbel  ^--.better  o'anither  dip."  And 
in  the  case  of  dowm  -  t  fraud — finding  out  what 
a  man  had  offered  f ''r  hs  farm  and  taking  it  over 
his  head — the  offend.^r  vris  **an  illgettit  wratch." 
The  two  latter  phrasrs  were  dark  with  theology, 
and  even  the  positive  dt-.^^ree  of  condemnation 
had  an  ecclesiastical  flavor. 

When  Drumsheugh  apprc  ved  any  one,  he  was 
content  to  say,  "  He  micbt  be  waur,"  a  position 
beyond  argument  On  occasion  he  ventured 
upon  bolder  assertions  :  *'  There's  nae  mischief  in 
Domsie  ;  "  and  once  I  heard  him  in  a  white  heat 
of  enthusiasm  pronounce  Dr.  Davidson,  our 
parish  minister,  **  A  graund  man  ony  wy  ye  tak 
him."  But  he  seemed  ashamed  after  this  out- 
burst, and  ''shooed"  the  crows  off  the  corn  with 
needless  vigor. 

No  Drumtochty  man  would  commit  himself  to 
a  positive  statement  on  any  subject  if  he  could 
find  a  way  of  escape,  not  because  his  mind  was 
confused,  but  because  he  was  usually  in  despair 
for  an  accurate  expression.  It  was  told  for  years 
in  the  Glen,  with  much  relish  and  almost  funereal 
solemnity,  how  a  Drumtochty  witness  had  held 
his  own  in  an  ecclesiastical  cou)t. 
II 


l62    CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY. 

"You  are  beadle  in  the  parish  of  Pitscourie," 
began  the  advocate  with  a  light  heart,  not  know- 
ing the  witness's  birthplace. 

**It's  a  fac',"  after  a  long  pause  and  a  careful 
review  of  the  whole  situation. 

"You  remember  that  Sabbath  when  the  minister 
cf  Netheraird  preached. " 

"Weel,  a'U  admit  that,"  making  a  concession 
to  justice. 

"  Did  ye  see  him  in  the  vestry  ?  '* 

*'A'  canna  deny  it." 

*'  Was  he  intoxicated }  " 

The  crudeness  of  this  question  took  away 
Drumtochty's  breath,  and  suggested  that  some- 
thing must  have  been  left  out  in  the  creation  of 
that  advocate.  Our  men  were  not  bigoted  ab- 
stainers, but  I  never  heard  any  word  so  coarse 
and  elementary  as  intoxicated  used  in  Drum- 
tochty.  Conversation  touched  this  kind  of  cir- 
cumstance with  delicacy  and  caution,  for  we 
keenly  realized  the  limitations  of  human  knowl- 
edge. 

"He  hed  his  mornin',"  served  all  ordinary 
purposes,  and  in  cases  of  emergency,  such  as 
Muirtown  market  : 

"  Ye  cud  see  he  hed  been  tastin'." 

When  an  advocate  forgot  himself  so  far  as  to 
say  intoxicated,  a  Drumtochty  man  might  be 
excused  for  being  upset. 

**Losh,  man,"  when  he  had  recovered,    "hoo 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY.     163 

cud  ony  richt-thinkin'  man  sweertaesic  an  awfu' 
word  ?  Na,  na,  a'  daurnause  that  kin'  o'  langidge  ; 
it's  no  cannie." 

The  advocate  tried  again,  a  humbler,  wiser 
man. 

**  Was  there  a  smell  of  drink  on  him?  " 

"Noo,  since  ye  press  me,  a'll  juist  tell  ye  the 
hale  truth ;  it  wes  doonricht  stupid  o'  me,  but,  as 
sure  as  a'm  livin',  a'  clean  forgot  tae  try  him." 

Then  the  chastened  counsel  gathered  himself 
up  for  his  last  effort. 

**  Will  you  answer  one  question,  sir.?  you  are 
on  your  oath.  Did  you  see  anything  unusual  in 
Mr.    MaoOmish's  walk?     Did  he  stagger ?  " 

"  Na,"  when  he  had  spent  two  minutes  in  recall- 
ing the  scene.  "Na,  I  cudna  say  stagger,  but 
he  micht  gie  a  bit  trimmil." 

'*We  are  coming  to  the  truth  now  ;  what  did 
you  consider  the  cause  of  tlie  trimmilling,  as  you 
call  it  ?  "  and  the  innocent  young  advocate  looked 
round  in  triumph. 

"  Weel,"  replied  Drumtochty,  making  a  clean 
breast  of  it,  "since  ye  maun  hae  it,  a'  heard  that 
he  wes  a  very  learned  man,  and  it  cam  intae  ma 
mind  that  the  Hebrew,  which,  a'm  telt,  is  a  very 
contrairy  langidge,  hed  gaen  doon  and  settled  in 
his  legs." 

The  parish  of  Netheraird  was  declared  vacant, 
but  it  was  understood  that  the  beadle  of  Pitscourie 
had  not  contributed  to  this  decision. 


1 64    CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY. 

His  own  parish  followed  the  trial  with  intense 
interest,  and  were  much  pleased  with  Andra's 
appearance. 

** Sail,"  said  Hillocks,  "  Andra  has  mair  gump- 
tion than  ye  wud  think,  and  yon  advocat  didna 
mak  muckle  o'  him.  Na,  na,  Andra  wesna 
brocht  up  in  the  Glen  for  naethin'.  Maister 
MacOmish  may  hae  taen  his  gless  atween  the 
Hebrew  and  the  Greek,  and  it's  no  verra  suitable 
for  a  minister,  but  that's  anither  thing  frae  bein* 
intoxicat. " 

"Keep's  a',  if  ye  were  tae  pit  me  in  the  box 
this  meenut,  a'  cudna  sweer  a'  hed  ever  seen  a 
man  intoxicat  in  ma  life,  except  a  puir  body  o' 
an  English  bag-man  at  Muirtown  Station.  A* 
doot  he  hed  bin  meddlin'  wi'  speerits,  and  they 
were  wheelin'  him  tae  his  kerridge  in  a  luggage 
barrow.  It  wes  a  fearsome  sicht,  and  eneugh  tae 
keep  ony  man  frae  speaking  aboot  intoxicat  in 
yon  louse  wy." 

Archie  Moncur  fought  the  drinking  customs  of 
the  Glen  night  and  day  with  moderate  success, 
and  one  winter's  night  he  gave  me  a  study  in  his 
subject  which,  after  the  lapse  of  years,  I  still 
think  admirable  for  its  reserve  power  and  Dan- 
tesque  conclusion. 

"They  a'  begin  in  a  sma'  wy,"  explained 
Archie,  almost  hidden  in  the  depths  of  my  read- 
ing chair,  and  emphasizing  his  points  with  a  gentle 
motion  of  his  right  hand;  "naethiu'  tae  mention 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY,    16$ 

at  first,  juist  a  gless  at  an  orra  time — a  beerial  or 
a  merridge — and  maybe  New  Year.  That's  the 
first  stage ;  they  ca'  that  moderation.  Aifter  a 
while  they  tak  a  mornin'  wi'  a  freend,  and  syne 
a  gless  at  the  public-hoose  in  the  evenin',  and 
they  treat  ane  anither  on  market  days.  That's 
the  second  stage  ;  that's  tastin'.  Then  they  need 
it  reg'lar  every  day,  nicht  an'  mornin',  and  they'll 
sit  on  at  nicht  till  they're  turned  oot.  They  'ill 
fecht  ower  the  Confession  noo,  and  laist  Sab- 
bath's sermon,  in  the  Kildrummie  train,  till  its 
clean  reediklus.  That's  drammin',  and  when 
they've  hed  a  year  or  twa  at  that  they  hae  their 
first  spatie  (spate  is  a  river  flood),  and  that  gies 
them  a  bit  fricht.  But  aff  they  set  again,  and 
then  comes  anither  spatie,  and  the  doctor  hes  tae 
bring  them  roond.  They  ca'  (drive)  cannie  for  a 
year  or  sae,  but  the  feein'  market  puts  the 
feenishin'  titch.  They  slip  aff  sudden  in  the  end, 
and  then  they  juist  gang  plunk — ay,"  said  Archie 
in  a  tone  of  gentle  meditation,  looking,  as  it 
were,  over  the  edge,    *' juist  plunk." 

Nothing  ever  affected  my  imagination  more 
powerfully  than  the  swift  surprise  and  gruesome 
suggestion  of  that  **  plunk." 

But  the  literary  credit  of  Drumtochty  rested  on 
a  broad  basis,  and  no  one  could  live  with  us 
without  having  his  speech  braced  for  life.  You 
felt  equal  to  any  emergency,  and  were  always 
able  to  express  your  mind  with  some  degree  of 


l66     CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY. 

accuracy,  which  is  one  of  the  luxuries  of  life. 
There  is,  for  instance,  a  type  of  idler  who  exas- 
perates one  to  the  point  of  assault,  and  whom 
one  hungers  to  describe  after  a  becoming  manner. 
He  was  rare  in  the  cold  air  of  the  North,  but  we 
had  produced  one  specimen,  and  it  was  my  luck 
to  be  present  when  he  came  back  from  a  distant 
colony,  and  Jamie  Soutar  welcomed  him  in  the 
kirkyard. 

*  *  Weel,  Chairlie, "  and  Jamie  examined  the  well- 
dressed  prodigal  from  top  to  toe,  *  *  this  is  a  prood 
moment  for  Drumtochty,  and  an  awfu'  relief  tae 
ken  yir  safe.  Man,  ye  hevna  wanted  meat  nor 
claithes  ;  a'  tak  it  rael  neeburly  o'  ye  tae  speak 
ava  wi'  us  auld-fashioned  fouk. 

"  Ye  needna  look  soornor  cock  yir  nose  in  the 
air,  for  you  an'  me  are  auld  freends,  and  yir  puir 
granny  wes  na  mair  anxious  aboot  ye  than  a'  wes. 

* '  *  A'm  feared  that  laddie  o'  Bell's  'ill  kill  him- 
sel'  oot  in  Ameriky,'  were  ma  verra  words  tae 
Hillocks  here  ;  *  he  'ill  be  slavin'  his  flesh  aff  his 
banes  tae  mak  a  fortune  and  keep  her  comfort- 
able." 

"It  was  a  rael  satisfaction  tae  read  yir  letter 
frae  the  backwoods — or  was't  a  public-hoose  in 
New  York  ?  ma  memory's  no  what  it  used  to  be — 
telling  hoo  ye  were  aye  thinking  o'  your  auld 
granny,  and  wantin'  tae  come  hame  and  be  a 
comfort  tae  her  if  she  wud  send  ye  out  twenty 
pund. 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY.     167 

"The  bit  that  affeckit  me  maist  wes  the  text 
frae  the  Prodigal  Son — it  cam  in  sae  natural. 
Mony  a  broken  hert  hes  that  story  bund  up,  as 
v/e  ken  weel  in  this  Glen  ;  but  it's  dune  a  feck  o* 
mischief  tae — that  gude  word  o'  the  Maister. 
Half  the  wastrels  in  the  warld  pay  their  passage 
hame  wi'  that  Parable,  and  get  a  bran  new  outfit 
for  anither  start  in  the  far  country. 

"Noo  dinna  turn  red,  Chairlie,  for  the  neeburs 
ken  ye  were  tae  work  yir  wy  hame  had  it  no 
been  for  yir  health.  But  there's  a  pack  of  rascals 
^iil  sorn  on  their  father  as  lang  as  he's  livin'  and 
they  'ill  stairve  a  weedowed  mither,  and  they  'ill 
tak  a  sister's  wages,  and  if  they  canna  get  ony 
better  a  dune  body  o'  eighty  'ill  serve  them, 

**Man,  Chairlie,  if  a'hed  ma  wull  wi'  thae 
wawfies^  1  v/ud  ship  them  aff  tae  a  desert  island, 
wi'  ae  sack  o'  seed  potatoes  and  anither  o*  seed 
corn,  and  let  them  work  or  dee.  A'  ken  yir  wi' 
me  there,  for  ye  aye  hed  an  independent  spirit, 
and  wesna  feared  tae  bend  yir  back. 

**  Noo,  if  a'  cam  across  ane  o'  thae  meeserable 
objects  in  Drumtochty,  div  ye  ken  the  advice  I 
wud  gie  him .? 

"A  w^ud  tell  the  daidlin*,  thowless,  feckless, 
fushionless  wratch  o'  a  cratur  tae  watch  for  the 
first  spate  and  droon  himsel'  in  the  Tochty  " 

**  Whafs  he  aff  through  the  graves  for  in  sic  a 
hurry  ? "  and  Jamie  followed  Charilie's  retreating 
figure  with  a  glance  of  admirable  amazement ; 


1 68     CUN-NING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY. 

"  thae's  no  very  gude  mainners  he's  learned  in 
Americky:" 

"  Thank  ye,  Jamie,  thank  ye  ;  we're  a'  obleeged 
tae  ye,"  said  Drumsheugh.  "A'  wes  ettlin'  tae 
lay  ma  hands  on  the  whup-ma-denty  (fop)  masel, 
but  ma  certes,  he's  hed  his  kail  het  this  mornin'. 
Div  ye  think  he  'il?.  tak  yir  advice  ?  " 

"Nae  fear  o'  him  ;  thae  neer-dae-weels  haena 
the  spunk  ;  but  a'm  expeckin'  he  *ill  flee  the 
pairish." 

Which  he  did.  Had  you  called  him  indolent 
or  useless  he  had  smiled,  but  *'daidlin',  thowless, 
feckless,  fushionless  wratch/'  drew  blood  at  every 
stroke,  like  a  Russian  knout. 

We  had  tender  words  also,  that  still  bring  the 
tears  to  my  eyes,  and  chief  am.ong  them  was 
"  couthy."  What  did  it  mean  ?  It  meant  a  letter 
to  some  tired  townsman,  written  m  homely 
Scotch,  and  bidding  him  come  to  get  new  life 
from  the  Drumtochty  air ;  and  the  grip  of  an 
honest  hand  on  the  Iliidrummie  platform  whose 
warmth  lasted  till  you  reached  the  Glen ;  and  an- 
other welcome  at  the  garden-gate  that  mingled 
with  the  scent  of  honeysuckle,  and  moss-roses, 
and  thyme,  andcarnations  ;  and  the  best  of  every- 
thing that  could  be  given  you  ;  and  motherly 
nursing  in  illness,  with  skilly  remedies  of  the  olden 
time ;  and  wise,  cheery  talk  that  spake  no  ill  of 
man  or  God  ;  and  loud  reproaches  if  you  proposed 
to   leave  under  a  month  or  two  ;  and  absolute 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY.     169 

conditions  that  you  must  return  ;  and  a  load  of 
country  dainties  for  a  bachelor's  bare  commons  ; 
and  far  more,  that  cannot  be  put  into  words,  of 
hospitality,  and  kindness,  and  quietness,  and  rest- 
fulness,  and  loyal  friendship  of  hearts  now  turned 
to  dust  in  the  old  kirkyard. 

But  the  best  of  all  our  words  were  pcept  for 
spiritual  things,  and  the  description  of  a  godly 
man.  We  did  not  speak  of  the  ''higher  life,"  nor 
of  a  "beautiful  Christian,"  for  this  way  of  putting 
it  would  not  have  been  in  keeping  with  the  genius 
of  Drumtochty.  Religion  there  was  very  lowly 
and  modest — an  inward  walk  with  God.  No 
man  boasted  of  himself,  none  told  the  secrets  of 
the  soul.  But  the  Glen  took  notice  of  its  saints, 
and  did  them  silent  reverence,  which  they  them- 
selves never  knew.  Jamie  Soutar  had  a  wicked 
tongue,  and,  at  a  time,  it  played  round  Archie's 
temperance  schemes,  but  when  that  good  man's 
back  was  turned  Jamie  was  the  first  to  do  him 
justice. 

"  It  wud  set  us  better  if  we  did  as  muckle  gude 
as  Archie  ;  he's  a  richt-livin'  man  and  weel  pre- 
pared." 

Our  choicest  tribute  was  paid  by  general  con- 
sent to  Burnbrae,  and  it  may  be  partiality,  but  it 
sounds  to  me  the  deepest  in  religious  speech. 
Every  cottage,  strangers  must  understand,  had  at 
least  two  room.s — the  kitchen  where  the  work  was 
done,  that  vv^e  called  the  "  But,"  and  there  allkirds 


170     CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY. 

of  people,  came ;  and  the  inner  chamber  which 
held  the  household  treasures,  that  we  called  the 
*'Ben/'  and  there  none  but  a  few  honored  visitors 
had  entrance.  So  we  imagined  an  outer  court  of 
the  religious  life  where  most  of  us  made  our  home, 
and  a  secret  place  where  only  God's  nearest 
friends  could  enter,  and  it  was  said  of  Burnbrae, 
"He's  far  ben."  His  neighbors  had  watched 
him,  for  a  generation  and  more,  buying  and  sell- 
ing, ploughing  and  reaping,  going  out  and  in  the 
common  ways  of  a  farmer's  life,  and  had  not 
missed  the  glory  of  the  soul.  The  cynic  of  Drum- 
tochty  summed  up  his  character:  ''There's  a 
puckle  gude  fouk  in  the  pairish,  and  ane  or  twa  o 
the  ither  kind,  and  the  maist  o'  us  are  half  and 
between,"  said  Jamie  Soutar,  "but  there's  ae 
thing  ye  may  be  sure  o'  Burnbrae  is  *  far  ben.' " 


4  WISE  WOMAN. 


L 

OUR  SERMON  TASTER. 

A  Drumtochty  man,  standing  six  feet  three  in 
his  boots,  sat  himself  down  one  day  in  the  study 
of  a  West-end  minister,  and  gazed  before  him 
with  the  countenance  of  a  sphinx. 

The  sight  struck  awe  into  the  townsman's  heart, 
and  the  power  of  speech  was  paralyzed  within 
him. 

"  A'm  frae  Drumtochty,"  began  a  deep  solemn 
voice.  "Ye  'ill  hae  heard  of  Drumtochty,  of 
coorse.  A've  jined  the  polls  ;  the  pay  is  no  that 
bad,  and  the  work  is  naethin'  tae  an  able-bodied 
man. " 

When  these  particulars  had  been  digested  by 
the  audience — 

''It's  a  crooded  place  London,  and  the  fouk's 
aye  in  a  tiravie  (commotion,)  rinnin'  here  an 
tinnin'  there,  and  the  maist  feck  o'  them  dinna 
ken  whar  they're  gaein'. 

"It's  officer  this  and  officer  that  frae  mornin' 
till  nicht.  It's  peetifu'  tae  see  the  helplessness  o' 
tke  bodies  in  their  ain  toon.     And  they're  freevo- 

173 


174 


A  WISE  WOMAN. 


lous,"  continued  the  figure,  refreshing  itself  with 
a  reminiscence. 

*'It  wes  this  verra  momin'  that  a  man  askit 
me  hoo  tae  get  tae  the  Strand. 

''  'Haudon,'  I  says,  *  till  ye  come  tae  a  cross 
street,  and  dinna  gang  doon  it,  and  when  ye  see 
anither  pass  it,  but  whup  roond  the  third,  and 
yir  nose  'ill  bring  ye  tae  the  Strand." 

*'He  was  a  shachlin  bit  cratur,  and  he  lookit 
up  at  me. 

**  *  Where  were  you  born,  officer? '  in  his  clippit 
English  tongue. 

"  *  Drumtochty,'  a' said,  'an'  we  hev  juist  ae 
man  as  sma'  as  you  in  the  hale  Glen.' 

"  He  gied  awa'  lauchin'  like  tae  split  his  sides, 
an'  the  fac'  is  there's  no  ane  o'  them  asks  me  a 
question  but  he  lauchs.  They're  a  licht-headed 
fouk,  and  no  sair  educat.  But  we  maunna 
boast ;  they  hevna  hed  oor  advantages.' 

The  minister  made  a  brave  effort  to  assert  him- 
self. 

"  Is  there  anything  I  can  do .?  "  but  the  figure 
simply  waved  its  hand  and  resumed  : 

"A'm  comin'  tae  that,  but  a'  thocht  ye  wud  be 
wantin'  ma  opeenion  o'  London. 

*'Weel,  ye  see,  the  first  thing  a'  did,  of  coorse, 
after  settlin'  doon,  was  tae  gae  roond  the  kirks 
and  hear  what  kin'  o'  ministers  they  hae  u'j  here. 
A've  been  in  saxteen  kirks  the  last  three  months,  an' 
a'  wud  hae  been  in  mair  had  it  no  bin  for  ma  oors. 


OUR  SERMON  TASTER.  175 

*'Ay,  ay,  a'  ken  ye 'ill  be  wantin' ma  judg- 
ment," interpreting  a  movement  in  the  chair,  **  an' 
ye  'ill  hae  it.  Some  wes  puir  stuff — plenty  o' 
water  and  little  meal — and  some  wesna  sae  bad 
for  England.  But  ye  'ill  be  pleased  to  know," 
here  the  figure  relaxed  and  beamed  on  the  anxious 
minister,  "that  a'm  rael  weel  satisfied wi'  yersel', 
and  a'm  thinkin'  o'  sittin'  under  ye. 

"Man,"  were  Drumtochty's  last  words,  ''a 
wish  Elspeth  Macfadyen  cud  hear  ye,  her  'at 
prees  (tastes)  the  sermons  in  oor  Glen  ;  a'  believe 
she  wud  pass  ye,  an'  if  ye  got  a  certeeficat  frae 
Elspeth,  ye  wud  be  a  prood  man." 

Drumtochty  read  widely — Soutar  was  soaked 
in  Carlyle,  and  Marget  Howe  knew  her  "  In 
Memoriam  "  by  heart — but  our  intellectual  life 
centred  on  the  weekly  sermon.  Men  thought 
about  Sabbath  as  they  followed  the  plough  in  our 
caller  air,  and  braced  themselves  for  an  effort  at 
the  giving  out  of  the  text.  The  hearer  had  his 
snuff  and  selected  his  attitude,  and  from  that  mo- 
ment to  the  close  he  never  moved  nor  took  his 
eyes  off  the  preacher.  There  was  a  tradition  that 
one  of  the  Disruption  fathers  had  preached  in  the 
Free  Kirk  for  one  hour  and  fifty  minutes  on  the 
bulwarks  of  Zion,  and  had  left  the  impression  that 
he  was  only  playing  round  the  outskirts  of  his 
subject.  No  preacher  with  anything  to  say  could 
complain  of  Drumtochty,  for  he  got  a  patient, 
honest,  critical  hearing  from  beginning  to  end.     If 


17$  A   WISE  WOMAN, 

a  preacher  were  slightly  equipped,  the  audience 
may  have  been  trying.  Well-meaning  evangelists 
who  came  with  what  they  called  ''a  simple 
Gospel  address,"  and  were  accustomed  to  have 
their  warmer  passages  punctuated  with  rounds  of 
spiritual  applause  in  the  shape  of  smiles  and  nods, 
lost  heart  in  face  of  that  judicial  front,  and  after- 
wards described  Drumtochty  in  the  religious 
papers  as  *'dead.'"  It  was  as  well  that  these 
good  men  walked  in  a  vain  show,  for,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  their  hearers   were  painfully  alive. 

"  Whar  did  yon  wakely  body  come  frae,  Burn- 
brae  ?  it  wes  licht  wark  the  day.  There  wes  nae 
thocht  worth  mentionin',  and  onything  he  hed 
wes  eked  oot  by  repeetition.  Tae  sae  naethin'  o* 
bairnly  stories." 

**He  lives  aboot  England,  a'm  telt,  an' dis  a 
feck  o'  gude  in  his  ain  place.  He  hesna  muckle 
in  his  head,  a'll  alloo  that,  Netherton,  but  he's  an 
earnest  bit  cratur. " 

•*0u  ay,  and  fu'  o' self-conceit.  Did  ye  hear 
boo  often  he  said  *  I '  ?  a'  got  as  far  as  saxty-three, 
and  then  a'  lost  count.  But  a!  keepit  'dear,' it 
cam  tae  the  hundred  neat. 

**Weel.?'a'  says  tae  Elspeth  Macfadyen.  A' 
kent  she  wud  hae  his  measure. 

"'Gruel,  Netherton,  juist  gruel,  and  eneuch 
tae  scunner  (disgust)  ye  wi'  sugar.'  '* 

It  was  the  birthright  of  every  native  of  the 
parish  to  be  a  critic,  and  certain  were  allowed  to 


OUK  ^EKMO.V  TASTER.  177 

be  experts  in  special  departments — Lachlan  Camp- 
bell in  doctrine  and  Jamie  Soutar  in  logic — but  as 
an  all  round  practitioner  Mrs.  Macfadyen  had  a 
solitary  reputation.  It  rested  on  a  long  series  of 
unreversed  judgments,  with  felicitous  strokes  of 
description  that  passed  into  the  literary  capital 
of  the  Glen.  One  felt  it  was  genius,  and  could 
only  note  contributing  circumstances — an  eye 
that  took  in  the  preacher  from  the  crown  of  his 
head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot  ;  an  almost  uncannie 
insight  into  character ;  the  instinct  to  seize  on 
every  scrap  of  evidence ;  a  memory  that  was 
simply  an  automatic  register ;  an  unfailing  sense 
of  fitness  ;  and  an  absolute  impartiality  regarding 
subject. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  Mrs.  Macfadyen 
did  not  take  nervous  little  notes  during  the  ser- 
mon—  all  writing  on  Sabbath,  in  kirk  or  outside, 
was  strictly  forbidden  in  Drumtochty — or  mark 
her  Bible,  or  practise  any  other  profane  device  of 
feeble-minded  hearers.  It  did  not  matter  how 
elaborate  or  how  incoherent  a  sermon  might  be,  it 
could  not  confuse  our  critic. 

When  John  Peddie  of  Muirtown,  who  always 
approached  two  hours,  and  usually  had  to  leave 
out  the  last  head,  took  time  at  the  Drumtochty 
Fast,  and  have,  at  full  length,  his  famous  discourse 
on  the  total  depravity  of  the  human  race,  from 
the  text,  "Arise,  shine,  for  thy  light  is  come,"  it 
may  be  admitted  that  the  Glen  w^avered  in  its  con- 
12 


178  A  WISE  WOMAN". 

fidence.  Human  nature  has  limitations,  and 
failure  would  have  been  no  discredit  to  Elspeth. 

"They  were  sayin' at  the  Presbytery,"  Burn- 
brae  reported,  "that  it  hes  mair  than  seeventy 
heads,  coontin'  pints,  of  coorse,  and  a'  can  weel 
believe  it.  Na,  na,  it's  no  tae  be  expeckit  that 
Elspeth  cud  gie  them  a'  aifter  ae  hearin'. " 

Jamie  Soutar  looked  in  to  set  his  m.ind  at  rest, 
and  Elspeth  went  at  once  to  work. 

"Sit  doon,  Jamie,  for  it  canna  be  dune  in  a 
meenut." 

It  took  twenty-three  minutes  exactly,  for  Jamie 
watched  the  clock. 

"That's  the  laist,  makin'  seeventy-four,  and  ye 
may  depend  on  every  ane  but  that  fourth  pint 
under  the  sixth  head.  Whether  it  wes  the  '  be- 
ginnin'  o'  faith'  or  '  the  oriijin,'  a'  canna  be  sure, 
for  he  cleared  his  throat  at  the  time." 

Peter  Bruce  stood  helpless  at  the  Junction  next 
Friday — Drumtochty  was  celebrating-  Elspeth — 
and  the  achievement  established  her  for  life. 

Probationers  who  preached  in  the  vacancy  had 
heard  rumors,  and  tried  to  identify  their  judge, 
with  the  disconcerting  result  that  they  addressed 
their  fioweriest  passages  to  Mistress  Stirton,  who 
was  the  stupidest  woman  in  the  Free  Kirk,  and 
had  once  stuck  in  the  ' '  chief  end  of  man.  '*'  They 
never  suspected  the  sonsy  motherly  woman,  two 
pews  behind  Donald  Menzics,  with  her  face  of 
demure  interest  and  general  air  of  country  sim« 


"They  never  suspected  the  sonsj  motherly  woman. 


OUR  SERMON  TASTER. 


79 


plicity.  It  was  as  well  for  the  probationers  that 
they  had  not  caught  the  glint  of  those  black  beady 
eyes. 

''It's  curious,"  Mrs.  Macfadyen  remarked  to 
me  one  day,  "hoo  the  pulpit  fashions  change, 
juist  like  weemen's  bonnets. 

**Noo  a'  mind  when  auld  Doctor  Ferintosh, 
him  'at  wrote  '  Judas  Iscariot  the  first  Residuary,' 
would  stand  twa  meenutes  facing  the  fouk,  and 
no  sit  doon  till  he  hed  his  snuff. 

''But  thae  young  birkies  gie  oot  'at  they  see 
naebody  comin'  in,  an'  cover  their  face  wi'  ae 
hand  sae  solemn,  that  if  ye  didna  catch  them 
keekin'  through  their  fingers  tae  see  what  like  the 
kirk  is,  ye  wud  think  they  were  prayin'." 

"There's  not  much  escapes  you,"  I  dared  to 
say,  and  although  the  excellent  woman  was  not 
accessible  to  gross  flattery,  she  seemed  pleased. 

"A'm  thankfu  that  a'  can  see  withoot  lookin' ; 
an'  a'll  wager  nae  man  ever  read  his  sermon  in 
Drumtochty  Kirk,  an'  a'  didna  find  him  oot. 
Noo,  there's  the  new  minister  o'  Netheraird,  he 
writes  his  sermon  on  ae  side  o'  ten  sheets  o'  pa- 
per, an'  he's  that  carried  awa'  at  the  end  o'  ilka 
page  that  he  disna  ken  what  he's  daein',  an'  the 
sleeve  o'  his  goon  slips  the  sheet  across  tae  the 
ither  side  o'  the  Bible. 

"  But  Doctor  Ferintosh  wes  cleverer,  sail  it  near 
beat  me  tae  detect  him,"  and  Elspeth  paused  to 
enjoy  the  pulpit  ruse.      "It  cam  tae  me  sudden 


i8o  A   WISE  WOMAN. 

Vie  Sacrament  Monday,  hoo  dis  he  aye  turn  up 
twal  texts,-  naither  mair  nor  less,  and  that  set  me 
thinkin'.  Then  a'  noticed  that  he  left  the  Bible 
open  at  the  place  till  anither  text  was  due,  an'  I 
wunnered  a'd  been  sae  slow.  It  wes  this  wy  : 
he  askit  the  beadle  for  a  glass  o'  water  in  the  ves- 
try, and  slippit  his  sermon  in  atween  the  leaves 
in  sae  mony  bits.  A've  wished  for  a  gallery  at 
a  time,  but  there's  mair  credit  in  findin'  it  oot 
below — ay,  an'  pleesure  tae  ;  a'  never  wearied  in 
kirk  in  ma  life." 

Mrs.  Macfadyen  did  not  appreciate  prodigal 
quotations  of  Scriptures,  and  had  her  suspicions 
of  this  practice. 

'  Tak  the  minister  o'  Pitscourie  noo  ;  he's  fair 
fozzy  wi'  trokin'  in  his  gairden  an'  feeding  pigs, 
and  hesna  studied  a  sermon  for  thirty  year. 

"Sae  what  dis  he  dae,  think  ye  .?  He  havers 
for  a  whilie  on  the  errors  o'  the  day,  and  syne 
he  says,  *  That's  what  man  says,  but  what  says 
the  Apostle  Paul ;  We  shall  see  what  the  Apostle 
Paul  says  :  He  puts  on  his  glasses,  and  turns  u^ 
the  passage,  and  reads  maybe  ten  verses,  and 
then  he's  aff  on  the  jundy  (trot)  again.  When  a 
man  hes  naethin'  tae  say  he's  aye  lang,  and  a've 
seen  him  gie  half  an  oor  o'  passages,  and  anithor 
half  oor  o'  havers. 

"'He's  a  Bible  preacher,  at  any  rate,'  says 
Burnbrae  tae  me  laist  Fast,  for,  honest  man,  he 
hes  aye  some  gude  word  for  a  body. 


OUR  SERMON  TASTER,  i8l 

'  'ItK  ae  thing,*  I  said  to  him,  'tae  feed  a  calf 
wi'  milk,  and  anither  tae  gie  it  the  empty  cogie 
tae  lick.' 

"It's  curious,  but  a've  noticed  that  when  a 
Moderate  gets  lazy  he  preaches  auld  sermons, 
but  a  Free  Kirk  minister  taks  tae  abusing  his 
neeburs  and  readin'  screeds  o'  the  Bible. 

"But  ]Maister  Pittendreigh  hes  twa  sermons,  at 
ony  rate,"  and  Elspeth  tasted  the  sweets  of  mem- 
ory with  such  keen  relish  that  I  begged  for  a 
share. 

"Well,  ye  see  he's  terrible  prood  o' his  feen- 
ishes,  and  this  is  ane  o'  them  : 

"'Heaven,  ma  brethren,  will  be  far  grander 
than  the  hoose  o'  ony  earthly  potentate,  for  there 
ye  will  no  longer  eat  the  flesh  of  bulls  nor  drink 
the  blood  o'  goats,  but  we  shall  sook  the  juicy 
pear  and  scoop  the  loocious  meelon.     Amen.' 

"He  hes  nae  mair  sense  o'  humor  than  an 
owl,  and  a'  aye  baud  that  a  man  withoot  humor 
sudna  be  allowed  intae  a  poopit. 

"A'  hear  that  they  have  nae  examination  in 
humor  at  the  college  ;  it's  an  awfu'  want,  for  it 
wud  keep  oot  mony  a  dreich  body. 

"  But  the  meelon's  naethin'  tae  the  goat,  that 
cowed  a*  thing,  at  the  Fast  tae. " 

"  If  Jeems  wes  aboot  a'  daurna  mention  't  :  he 
canna  behave  himsel'  tae  this  day  gin  he  hears 
't,  though  ye  ken  he's  a  douce  man  as  ever 
lived 


1 82  A   WISE  WOMAN. 

"It  wes  anither  feenish,  and  it  ran  this  wy  : 

"  'Noa,  ma  freends,  a'  wull  no  be  keepin'  ye 
ony  longer,  and  ye  'ill  a'  gae  hame  tae  yir  ain 
hooses  and  mind  yir  ain  business.  And  as  sune 
as  ye  get  hame  ilka  man  'ill  gae  tae  his  closet 
and  shut  the  door,  and  stand  for  five  meenutes, 
and  ask  himsel'  this  solemn  question,  "Am  I  a 
goat?"    Amen.' 

"The  amen  near  upset  me  masel,'  and  a'  hed 
tae  dunge  Jeems  wi'  ma  elbow. 

"  He  said  no  a  word  on  the  wy  back,  but  a' 
saw  it  wes  barmin'  in  him,  and  he  gied  oot  sud- 
den  aifter  his  dinner  as  if  he  had  been  ta'en  un- 
weel. 

"A' cam'  on  him  in  the  byre,  rowing  in  the 
strae  like  a  bairn,  and  every  ither  row  he  took  he 
wud  say,  *  Am  I  a  goat .''  ' 

"It  wes  na  cannie  for  a  man  o*  his  wecht, 
bf-sides  bein'  a  married  man  and  a  kirk  member, 
and  a'  gied  him  a  hearing. 

"  He  sobered  doon,  and  a'  never  saw  him  dae 
the  like  since.  But  he  hesna  forgot,  na,  na  ;  a've 
seen  a  look  come  ower  Jeems'  face  in  kirk,  and 
a've  been  feared. 

When  the  Free  Kirk  quarrelled  in  their  vacancy 
over  two  probationers,  Mrs.  Macfadyen  summed 
them  up  with  such  excellent  judgment  that  they 
were  thrown  over  and  peace  restored. 

"  There's  some  o'  thae  Muirtown  drapers  can 
busk  oot  their  windows  that  ye  canna  pass  with- 


OUR  SERMON  TASTER.  183 

oot  lookin* ;  there's  bits  o'  bine  and  bits  o'  red, 
and  a  ribbon  here  an'  a  lace  yonder. 

**  It's  a  bonnie  show  and  denty,  an'  no  wunner 
the  lassies  stan'  and  stare. 

"  But  gae  intae  the  shop,  and  peety  me,  there's 
next  tae  naethin' ;  it's  a'  in  the  window. 

*'Noo,  that's  Maister  Popinjay,  as  neat  an' 
fikey  a  little  mannie  as  ever  a'  saw  in  a  black 
goon. 

"His  bit  sermon  wes  six  poems — five  a'  hed 
heard  afore — four  anecdotes — three  aboot  him- 
sel'  and  ain  aboot  a  lord — twa  burnies,  ae  fioo'r 
gairden,  and  a  snowstorm,  wi'  the  text  thirteen 
tmies  and  'beloved'  twal ;  that  was  a' ;  a  takin' 
window,  and  Netherton's  lassies  cudna  sleep 
thinkin'  o'  him. 

"  There's  ither  shopmen  in  Muirtown  that  fair 
scunner  ye  wi'  their  windows — they're  that  ill  set 
out — and  inside  there's  sic  a  wale  o'  stuff  that  the 
man  canna  get  what  ye  want  ;  he's  clean  smoored 
wi'  his  ain  goods. 

*'  It's  a  graund  shop  for  the  auld  fouk  that  hae 
plenty  o'  time  and  can  turn  ower  the  things  by 
the  'cor.  Ye  'ill  no  get  a  young  body  inside  the 
door. 

"  That's  Maister  Auchtermuchty  ;  he  hes  mair 
material  than  he  kens  hoo  tae  handle,  and 
naebody,  hearin'  him,  can  mak  head  or  tail  o'  his 
sermon. 

*' Ye  get  a  rive  at  the  Covenants  ae  meenute, 


i84  ^   WISE  WOMAN-. 

and  a  mouthfu'  o'  justification  the  next.  Yir  na^ 
suner  \vi'  the  Patriarchs  than  yir  whuppit  aff  tae 
the  Apostles. 

"  It's  rich  feedin',  nae  doot,  but  sair  mixed,  an' 
no  verra  tasty." 

So  the  old  and  young  compromised,  and  chose 
Carmichael. 

Elspeth  was  candid  enough  on  occasion,  but 
she  was  not  indiscreet.  She  could  convey  her 
mind  delicately  if  need  be,  and  was  a  mistress  of 
subtle  suggestion. 

When  Netherton's  nephew  preached  the  mis- 
sionary sermon — he  was  a  stout  young  man  with 
a  volcanic  voice — Mrs.  Macfadyen  could  not 
shirk  her  duty,  but  she  gave  her  judgment  with 
care. 

"  He's  a  fine  lad,  and  'ill  be  sure  to  get  a  kirk  ; 
he's  been  weel  brocht  up,  and  comes  o'  decent 
fouk. 

"His  doctrine  soonds  richt,  an'  he  'ill  no  gang 
aff  the  track.  Ye  canna  ca'  him  bashfu',  and  he's 
sure  to  be  heard." 

Her  audience  still  waited,  and  not  in  vain. 

"But  the  Lord  hes  nae  pleesure  in  the  legs  o* 
a  man,"  and  every  one  felt  that  the  last  word  had 
been  said  on  Netherton's  nephew. 


IL 

THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEN. 

Carmichael  used  to  lament  bitterly  that  he  had 
lost  his  Gaelic,  and  labored  plans  of  compensa- 
tion for  our  Celts,  who  were  understood  to  wor- 
ship in  Enghsh  at  an  immense  reduction  of  profit. 
One  spring  he  intercepted  a  Highland  minister, 
who  was  returning  from  his  winter's  raid  on  Glas- 
gow with  great  spoil,  and  arranged  an  evening 
service,  which  might  carry  Lachlan  Campbell  back 
to  the  golden  days  of  Auchindarroch.  Mr.  Dugald 
Mactavish  was  himself  much  impressed  with  the 
opportunity  of  refreshing  his  exiled  brethren, 
speaking  freely  on  the  Saturday  of  the  Lowlands 
as  Babylon,  and  the  duty  of  gathering  the  outcasts 
of  Israel  into  one.  He  was  weaned  with  difficulty 
from  Gaelic,  and  only  consented  to  preach  in  the 
**  other  language  "  on  condition  that  he  should  not 
be  restricted  in  time.  His  soul  had  been  much 
hampered  in  West  End  churches,  where  he  had 
to  appeal  for  his  new  stove  under  the  first  head, 
lest  he  should  go  empty  away,  and  it  was  natural 
for  one  escaping  from  such  bondage  to  put  a 
generous  interpretation  on  Carmichael's  conces- 

i8s 


1 86  A   WISE  WOMAN. 

sion.  So  Maister  Dugald  continued  unto  the 
setting  of  the  sun.  His  discourse  was  so  rich  and 
varied  that  Peddie  of  Muirtown  on  original  sin 
was  not  to  be  compared  with  it  in  breadth  of 
treatment,  and  Mrs.  Macfadyen  confessed  frankly 
that  she  gave  up  in  despair  before  the  preacher 
had  fairly  entered  on  his  second  hour.  Besides 
the  encounter  of  the  preacher  with  Mr.  Urijah 
Hopps,  which  carried  the  Glen  by  storm,  and 
kept  the  name  of  ]\Iactavish  green  with  us  for  a 
generation. 

Rumors  of  this  monumental  pulpit  effort,  with 
its  stirring  circumstances,  passed  from  end  to  end 
of  the  Glen  during  the  week,  and  Peter  himself 
recognized  that  it  was  an  occasion  at  the  Junction 
on  Friday. 

"Ye  may  as  weel  shut  aff  the  steam,  Jeems,'' 
Peter  explained  to  our  engine-driver,  *'an'  gie 
them  ten  meenuts.  It's  been  by  ordinar'  at 
Drumtochty  Free  Kirk  laist  Sabbath  nicht,  and 
Drumsheugh  'ill  no  move  till  he  hears  the  end 
o't." 

And  as  soon  as  the  Muirtown  train  kad  re- 
moved all  strangers,  that  worthy  man  opened  the 
campaign. 

"What  kin'  o'  coUieshangie  (disturbance)  is 
this  ye've  been  carryin'  on.  Hillocks }  it's  doon- 
richt  aggraratin'  that  ye're  no  content  pesterin' 
cor  life  oot  wi'  that  English  body  in  the  kirkyard, 
but  ye  must  needs  set  him  up  tae  arglebargle  wi 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEAT.     187 

a  strange  minister  at  the  Free  Kirk.  They  say 
that  the  puir  man  cud  hardly  get  a  word  in  atween 
you  and  yir  lodger.  Burnbrae  here  is  threatenin* 
ye  wi'  the  Sherra,  and  a'  dinna  wonder." 

**It's    nae    lauchin'    maitter,    a'   can    tell   ye, 
Drumsheugh  ;  a've  never  been  sae  blr.ck  affronti 
a'  ma  life.     Burnbrae  kens  as  weel  as  ye  dae  that 
a'  wasna  tae  blame. 

"  Ye  'ill  better  clear  yersel  at  ony  rate,  Hillocks, 
for  some  o'  the  neeburs  threep  (insist)  'at  it  wes 
you,  and  some  that  it  wes  yir  freend,  an'  there's 
ithers  declare  ye  ran  in  compt  (company)  like 
twa  dogs  worrying  sheep  ;^  it  wes  a  bonnie  like 
pliskie  (escapade)  onywy,  and  hardly  fit  for  an 
Auld  Kirk  elder  " — a  sally  much  enjoyed  by  the 
audience,  who  knew  that,  after  Whinnie,  Hillocks 
was  the  doucest  man  in  Drumtochty. 

"Weel,  ye  see  it  wes  this  wy,"  began  Hillocks, 
with  the  air  of  a  man  on  his  trial  for  fire  raising. 
'*Hopps  fund  oot  that  a  Hielandman  wes  tae 
preach  in  the  Free  Kirk,  and  naethin'  wud  sateesfy 
him  but  that  we  maun  gae.  A'  micht  hae  jaloused 
(suspected)  it  wesna  the  sermon  the  wratch  wantit, 
for  he  hed  the  impidence  tae  complain  that  the 
Doctor  was  tedious  Sabbath  a  fortnicht  when 
he  gied  us  'Ruth,'  though  I  never  minded 
'Ruth'  gae  aff  sae  sweet  a'  the  timss  a've  heard 
it. 

"Gin  a'  hed  imagined  what  the  ettercap 
(captious  creature)  wes  aifter  a'  wud  hae  seen  ma 


i88  A   WISE  WOMAN. 

feet  in  the  fire  afore  they  carried  me  tae  the  Free 
Kirk  that  nicht. 

"  Says  he  tae  me  on  the  road,  'A'm  told  the 
minister  will  be  in  his  national  costume.' 

"  *  He  'ill  be  in  his  goon  and  bands,'  says  I,  'if 
that's  what  ye  mean,'  for  the  head  o'  him  is  fu* 
o'  maggots,  and  nae  man  can  tell  what  he  wull 
be  at  next. 

"'Mister  Soutar  said  that  he  would  wear  his 
kilt,  and  that  it  would  be  an  interesting  spectacle.' 

"'Jamie's  been  drawing  yir  leg  (befooling 
you),'  says  I.  *  Man,  there's  naebody  wears  a  kilt 
forbye  gemkeepers  and  tourist  bodies.  Ye  'ill 
better  come  awa  hame,'  and  sail,  if  a'  hed  kent 
what  wes  tae  happen,  a'  wud  hae  ta'en  him  aff 
below  ma  oxter. 

"It's  no  richt  tae  mak  me  responsible,  for  a* 
tried  tae  wile  him  awa  tae  the  back  o'  the  kirk 
whar  naebody  cud  see  him,  but  he's  that  thrawn 
and  upsettin',  if  he  didna  gae  tae  the  verra  front 
seat  afore  the  poopit. 

"  'I  want  a  good  position,'  says  he;  'I'll  see 
everything  here ; '  sae  a'  left  him  an'  gaed  tae 
Elspeth  Macfadyen's  seat. 

"  'He's  anxious  tae  hear,'  she  said,  'an'  a'm 
thinkin'  he  'ill  get  mair  than  he  expecks.  A' 
wish  it  wes  weel  ower  masel,  Hillocks  ;  it  'ill  be 
an  awfu'  nicht.' 

"Thae  Hielandmen  dinna  pit  aff  time  wi' the 
preleeminaries,  but   they  were  lang   eneuch  tat 


I 


THE    COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEN.     189 

let  oliybody  see  what  kin*  o'  man  Mactavisb 
wes. 

*'  A  gruesome  carle,  neeburs,  wi'  his  hair  hangin' 
roond  his  face  Hke  a  warlock  and  his  een  blazin* 
oof  o*  his  head  like  fire  ;  the  sicht  o'  him  is  sure 
tae  sober  Hopps,  thinks  I. 

"But  no,  there's  some  fouk  'ill  tak  nae  warn  in'  ; 
there  he  was,  sittin'  in  front  o'  Mactavish  with  his 
thumbs  in  his  airm  holes,  and  a  watch  gaird 
spread  richt  across  him,  and  ae  leg  cocked  over 
the  ither,  the  verra  eemage  of  a  bantam  cock 
fleein'  in  the  face  o' judgment." 

Drumtochty  had  never  moved  during  this  his- 
tory, and  now  they  drew  closer  round  Hillocks, 
on  whom  the  mantle  of  speech  had  for  once 
descended. 

"Mactavish  lookit  at  the  body  aince,  and  he 
lookit  again  juist  tae  gie  him  fair  notis,  and  then 
he  broke  oot  in  face  o'  the  hale  congregation  : 

"  'There's  nothing  in  all  the  world  so  deceptive 
as  sin,  for  outside  it's  like  a  bonnie  summer  day, 
and  inside  it's  as  black  as  hell. 

"  '  Now  here  iss  this  fat  little  man  sitiin'  before 
me  with  his  suit  o'  blue  clothes  so  bonnie  and 
dainty,  and  a  watch  guard  as  thick  as  my  finger 
on  his  wame,  smilin'  an'  smirkin',  and  real  well 
contented  with  himself,  but  if  he  wass  opened  up 
what  a  sight  it  would  be  for  men  and  angels.  Oh, 
yes,  yes,  it  would  be  a  fearsome  sicht,  and  no 
man  here  would  be  able  to  look." 


190 


A  WISE  WOMAI^, 


**  A' tell  ye,  neeburs,  ye  micht  hae  heard  a  pin 
fa'  tae  the  ground,  and  ma  heart  wes  thumping  in 
ma  briest ;  a'  wudna  come  thro'  the  like  o'  yon 
again  for  half  the  pleenishin'o'  Hillocks." 

There  was  not  a  sound  at  the  junction  save  the 
steam  escaping  from  the  engine,  and  Hillocks 
resumed  : 

''But  the  worst's  comin'.  Hopps  jumps  up  and 
faces  Mactavish — a'U  no  deny  there  s  some  spunk 
in  the  body. 

**  'What  right  have  you  to  speak  like  that  to 
me  ?  do  you  know  who  I  am  ? ' 

"He  hed  better  been  quiet,  for  he  wes  nae 
match  for  yon  Hielandman. 

"  Mactavish  glowered  at  him  for  maybe  a 
meenut  till  the  puir  cratur  fell  back  intae  his  seat 

**  *  Man,'  says  Mactavish,  '  I  do  not  know  who 
you  are,  and  I  do  not  know  what  you  are,  and  I 
shall  not  be  asking  who  you  are,  and  I  am  not 
caring  though  you  be  MacCallummore  himsel'. 
You  are  just  a  Parable,  oh  yes,  just  a  Parable. 

**  '  But  if  ye  be  convicted  of  secret  sin  ye  may 
go  out,  and  if  there  be  anybody  else  whose  sins 
have  been  laid  bare  he  may  go  out  too,  and  if 
nobody  wants  to  go  out,  then  I  will  be  going  on 
with  the  sermon,  oh  yes,  for  it  will  not  do  to  be 
spending  all  our  time  on  Parables.' 

"As  sure  as  a'm  stannii  '  here  ye  cudna  see 
Hopps  inside  his  claithes  when  Mactavish  wes 
dun  wi'  him," 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MAC  FAD  YEN,     191 

When  the  train  started  Hillocks  received  the 
compliments  of  the  third  with  much  modesty,  and 
added  piquant  details  regarding  the  utter  confusion 
of  our  sermon  taster. 

"  *  Did  ye  follow  ? '  a'  speirit  o*  Elspeth  afore  a' 
went  tae  pit  Hopps  thegither. 

*'  '  Cud  a'  follow  a  bumbee  ? '  was  the  only  word 
a'  got  frae  her ;  a'  saw  she  was  beaten  for  aince 
and  wes  rael  mad." 

"It's  true  Elspeth  scuffled  wi'  her  feet  at  the 
laist  head  and  gar'd  him  close }  " 

'*  A'U  neither  deny  nor  affirm,  Drumsheugh  ;  but 
there's  nae  doot  when  the  mune  began  tae  shine 
aboot  nine,  and  Mactavish  started  aff  on  the 
Devil,  somebody  scrapit  aside  me.  It  wesna 
Jeems  ;  he  daurna  for  his  life  ;  and  it  wesna  me. 
A'll  no  say  but  it  micht  be  Elspeth,  but  she  wes 
sair  provokit.  Aifter  haddin'  her  ain  twenty  years 
tae  be  maistered  by  a  Hielandman." 

It  was  simply  a  duty  of  friendship  to  look  in  and 
express  one's  sympathy  with  Mrs.  Macfadyen  in 
this  professional  disaster.  I  found  her  quite  will- 
ing to  go  over  the  circumstances,  which  were  un- 
exampled in  her  experience,  and  may  indeed  be 
considered  a  contribution  to  history. 

"A'  wudna  hae  minded,"  explained  Elspeth 
settling  down  to  narrative,  **  hoo  mony  heads  he 
gied  oot,  no  tho'  he  hed  titched  the  hundred. 
A've  cause  tae  be  gratefu'  for  aguid  memory,  and 
a've  kept  it  in  fine  fettle  wi'  sermons.     My  wy  is 


^  A  WISE  WOMAN. 

tae  place  ilka  head  at  the  end  o'  a  shelf  and  a'  the 
pints  aifter  it  in  order  like  the  plates  there,*'  and 
^Irs.  Macfadyen  pointed  with  honest  pride  to  hef 
wall  of  crockery,  "and  when  the  minister  is  at 
an  illustration  or  makin'  an  appeal  a'  aye  rin  ower 
the  rack  tae  see  that  a've  a'  the  pints  in  their 
places.  Maister  Mactavish  cud  ne'er  hae  got  the 
wheephand  o'  me  wi'  his  diveesions  ;  he's  no  fit 
tae  haud  the  can'le  tae  John  Peddle.  Na,  na, 
a'  wesna  feared  o'  that  when  a'  examined  yon 
man  giein'  oot  the  Psalm,  but  a'  didna  like  his 
een. " 

"'He's  ravelled,' a*  said  tae  masel,  *  without 
beginning  or  end  ;  we  'ill  hae  a  nicht  o't,'  and  sae 
we  hed." 

I  preserved  a  sympathetic  silence  till  Mrs.  Mac- 
fadyen  felt  herself  able  to  proceed. 

*'  It's  easy  eneuch,  ye  see,  for  an  auld  hand  tae 
manage  ae  set  o'  heads  gin  they  come  tae  ten  or 
a  hundred,  but  it's  another  business  when  a  man 
hes  different  sets  in  ae  sermon.  Noo  hoo  mony 
sets  div  ye  think  that  man  hed  afore  he  wes 
dune }  " 

It  was  vain  for  a  mere  layman  to  cope  with  the 
possibilities  of  Mr.  Mactavish. 

"  Power,  as  a'm  a  leevin'  woman,  and  that's  no 
a'  ;  he  didna  feenish  wi'  ae  set  an'  begin  wi'  the 
next,  but  if  he  didna  mix  them  a'  thegither. 
Fewer  set  o'  heads  a'  in  a  tangle ;  noo  ye  hae 
some  kin'  o'  idea  o'  what  a'  hed  tae  face."    And 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEN.     193 

Mrs.  Macfadyen  paused  that  I  might  take  in  the 
situation. 

When  I  expressed  my  conviction  that  even  the 
most  experienced  hearer  was  helpless  in  such  cir- 
cumstances, Elspeth  rallied,  and  gave  me  to  un- 
derstand that  she  had  saved  some  fragments  from 
the  wreckage. 

' '  A'll  juist  tell  ye  the  hale  hypothic,  for  sic  a  dis- 
coorse  ye  may  never  hear  a*  the  days  o'  yir  life. 

"Ye  ken  thae  Hielandmen  tak  their  texts  for 
the  maist  pairt  frae  the  Auld  Testament,  and  this 
was  it  mair  or  less,  *  The  trumpet  shall  be  blown, 
and  they  shall  come  from  Assyria  and  the  land  o* 
Egypt,'  and  he  began  by  explainin'  that  there 
were  twa  classes  in  Drumtochty,  thos?  who  were 
born  and  bred  in  the  parish,  which  were  oursels, 
and  them  'at  hed  tae  stay  here  owin'  tae  the  mys- 
terious dispensations  o'  Providence,  which  wes 
Lachlan  Campbell. 

*'Noo  this  roosed  ma  suspicions,  for  it's  against 
reason  for  a  man  tae  be  dividing  intae  classes  till 
the  end  o'  his  sermon.  Tak  my  word,  it's  no 
chancy  when  a  minister  begins  at  the  tail  o'  his 
subject :  he'll  wind  a  queer  pirn  afore  he's  dune. 

"Weel,  he  gaed  up  and  he  gaed  doon,  and  he 
aj'e  said,  *  Oh  yes,  yes,'  juist  like  the  thrashing 
mill  at  Drumsheugh  scraiking  and  girling  till  it's 
fairly  aff,  an'  by  and  by  oot  he  comes  wi'  his 
heads. 

*'  *  There  are  fower  trumpets,"  says  he.     *  First, 


^94  A   W^SE   WOMAN. 

a  leeteral  trumpet ;  second,  a  heestorical  trumpet ; 
third,  a  metaphorical  trumpet ;  fourth,  a  speerit- 
ual  trumpet.' 

"  'I've  got  ye,'  a'  said  tae  masel,  and  settled 
doon  to  hear  him  on  the  first  head,  for  fear  he 
micht  hae  pints ;  but  wull  ye  believe  me,  he 
barely  mentioned  leeteral  till  he  was  aff  tae 
speeritual,  and  then  back  tae  historical,  an' in  five 
meenuts  he  had  the  hale  fower  trumpets  blavving* 
thegither. 

"It  wes  maist  exasperating  and  a'  saw  Jeems 
watchin'  me — but  that's  naethin'. 

"  *  There  be  many  trumpets,'  says  he,  *  oh  yes, 
an' it  wes  a  good  trumpet  Zaccheus  heard,'  and 
afore  a'  knew  where  a'  wes  he  hed  startit  agaio 
wi'  fower  new  heads,  as  if  he  had  never  said 
trumpet. 

"  '  A  big  tree,'  he  cries,  *an'  a  little  man,  oh 
yes,  an'  tkis  is  what  we  will  be  doin'. 

"  '  First.     We  shall  go  up  the  tree  wi*  Zaccheus. 

"  'Second.  We  shall  sit  in  the  branches  wi' 
Zaccheus. 

"  'Third.  We  shall  como  down  from  the  tree 
wi'  Zaccheus  ;  and  if  time  permits, 

"'Fourth.  We  shall  be  going  home  wi'  the 
publican. ' " 

It  seemed  only  just  to  pay  a  tribute  at  this 
point  to  the  wonderful  presence  ot  mind  Mrs. 
Macfadyen  had  shown  amid  unparalleled  diffi- 
culties. 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEN.     195 

"  Hoot  awa,"  she  responded;  "themeenut  ony 
heads  cam  a*  knew  ma  grund  ;  but  the  times 
atween  I  wes  fairly  lost. 

"A'll  no  deny,"  and  our  critic  turned  aside  to 
general  reflections,  "  that  Mactavish  said  mony 
bonnie  and  affeckin'  things  frae  time  tae  time, 
like  the  glimpses  o'  the  hills  ye  get  when  the 
mist  rolls  awa,  and  he  cam  nearer  the  hert  than 
the  feck  o'  oor  preachers  ;  but  certes  yon  confu- 
sion is  mair  than  us  low  country  fouk  cud  stand. 

**Juist  when  he  was  speakin'  aboot  Zaccheus 
as  nice  as  ye  please — though  whether  he  was  up 
the  tree  or  doon  the  tree  a'  cudna  for  the  life  o'  me 
tell — he  stops  sudden  and  looks  at  us  ower  the 
top  o'  his  spectacles,  which  is  terrible  impressive, 
and  near  dis  instead  o'  speakin/ 

"We  will  now  come  to  the  third  head  of  this 
discoorse. 

"  'The  trumpet  shall  be  blown,  for,'  says  he, 
in  a  kin'  o'  whisper,  'there's  a  hint  o'  oppeesition 
here, 'an*  a'  tell  ye  honestly  a'  lost  hert  a'thegither, 
for  here  he  wes  back  again  amang  the  trumpets, 
and  a'll  gie  ma  aith  he  never  sae  much  as  men- 
tioned that  head  afore. 

**  It's  an  awfu'  peety  that  some  men  dinna  ken 
when  tae  stop ;  they  micht  see  frae  the  poopit ; 
if  a'  saw  the  tears  comin'  tae  the  women's  een,  or 
the  men  glowering  like  wild  cats  for  fear  they 
sud  brak  doon,  a'd  say  Amen  as  quick  as  Pitten- 
dreigh  aifter  his  goat. 


196  A  WISE  WOMAJ^, 

"What  possessed  Maister  Dugald,  as  Lachlan 
ca'd  him,  a'  dinna  ken,  but  aboot  half  nine — an' 
he  begood  at  six — he  set  oot  upon  the  trumpets 
again,  an'  when  he  cudna  get  a  baud  o'  them,  he 
says  : 

**  '  It  will  be  getting  dark  '  (the  mune  was  fairly 
oot),  '  an'  it  is  time  we  were  considering  our  last 
head.'" 

** '  We  will  now  study  Satan  in  all  his  offices 
and  characteristics.'  " 

'*A'  see  they've  been  telling  ye  what  hap- 
pened," and  confusion  covered  Mrs.  Macfadyen's 
ingenuous  countenance. 

"  Weel,  as  sures  deith  a'  cudna  help  it,  tae  be 
sittin'  on  peens  for  mair  than  twa  oors  tryin'  tae 
get  a  grup  o'  a  man's  heads,  an'  him  tae  play 
hide-and-seek  wi'  ye,  an'  then  tae  begin  on  Satan 
at  nine  o'clock  is  mair  nor  flesh  and  bluid  cud 
endure. 

"A'  acknowledge  a'  scrapit,  but  a'  houp  ta^ 
gudeness  a'U  never  be  tempted  like  yon  again. 

"It's  a  judgment  on  me  for  ma  pride,  an' 
Jeems  said  that  tae  me,  for  a'  boastit  a'  cudna  be 
beat,  but  anither  oor  o'  Mactavish  wud  hae  driven 
me  dottle  (silly)." 

Then  I  understood  that  Mrs.  Macfadyen  had 
been  humbled  in  the  dust. 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 


A  GENERAL  PRACTITIONER. 

Drumtochty  was  accustomed  to  break  every 
law  of  health,  except  wholesome  food  and  fresh 
air,  and  yet  had  reduced  the  Psalmist's  farthest 
limit  to  an  average  life-rate.  Our  men  made  no 
difference  in  their  clothes  for  summer  or  winter, 
Drumsheugh  and  one  or  two  of  the  larger  farmers 
condescending  to  a  topcoat  on  Sabbath,  as  a 
penalty  of  their  position,  and  without  regard  to 
temperature.  They  wore  their  blacks  at  a  funeral, 
refusing  to  cover  them  with  anything,  out  of  re- 
spect to  the  deceased,  and  standing  longest  in  the 
kirkyard  when  the  north  wind  was  blowing  across 
a  hundred  miles  of  snow.  If  the  rain  was  pour- 
ing at  the  Junction,  then  Drumtochty  stood  two' 
minutes  longer  through  sheer  native  dourness  till 
each  man  had  a  cascade  from  the  tail  of  his  coat, 
and  hazarded  the  suggestion,  halfway  to  Kil- 
drummie,  that  it  had  been  "a  bit  scrowie,"  a 
*'scrowie"  being  as  far  short  of  a  **shoor"  as  a 
**  shoor  "  fell  below  **  weet." 

This  sustained  defiance  of  the  elements  pro- 

199 


200         A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

voked  occasional  judgments  in  the  shape  of  a 
"  hoast"  (cough),  and  the  head  of  the  house  was 
then  exhorted  by  his  women  folk  to  "change  his 
feet  "  if  he  had  happened  to  walk  through  a  burn  on 
his  way  home,  and  was  pestered  generally  with 
sanitary  precautions.  It  is  right  to  add  that  the 
gudeman  treated  such  advice  with  contempt, 
regarding  it  as  suitable  for  the  effeminacy  of 
towns,  but  not  seriously  intended  for  Drum- 
tochty.  Sandy  Stewart  ''napped"  stones  on  the 
road  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  wet  or  fair,  summer  and 
winter,  till  he  was  persuaded  to  retire  from  active 
duty  at  eighty-five,  and  he  spent  ten  years  more 
in  regretting  his  hastiness  and  criticising  his  suc- 
cessor. The  ordinary  course  of  life,  with  fine 
air  and  contented  minds,  was  to  do  a  full  share 
of  work  till  seventy,  and  then  to  look  afier  "  orra  " 
jobs  well  into  the  eighties,  and  to  '*  slip  awa" 
within  sight  of  ninety.  Persons  above  ninety 
were  understood  to  be  acquitting  themselves  with 
credit,  and  assuming  airs  of  authority,  brushing 
^side  the  opinions  of  seventy  as  immature,  and 
confirming  their  conclusions  with,  illustrations 
drawn  from  the  end  of  last  century. 

When  Hillocks'  brother  so  far  forgot  himself  as 
to  "slip  awa"  at  sixty,  that  worthy  man  was 
scandalized,  and  offered  labored  explanations  at 
the  "beerial." 

"It's  an  awfu'  business  ony  wy  ye  look  at  it, 
an'  a  sair  trial  tae  us  a'.     A'  never  heard  tell  o* 


i 


A  GENERAL  PRACTITIONER.  201 

sic  a  thing  in  oor  family  afore,  an'  it's  no  easy 
accoontin'  for't. 

"The  gudewife  was  sayin'  he  wes  never  the 
same  sin'  a  vveet  nicht  he  lost  himsel'  on  the  muir 
and  slept  below  a  bush  ;  but  that's  neither  here 
nor  there.  A'm  thinkm'  he  sappit  his  constitution 
thae  twa  years  he  wes  grieve  aboot  England. 
That  wes  thirty  years  syne,  but  ye're  never  the 
same  aifter  thae  foreign  climates." 

Drumtochty  listened  patiently  to  Hillocks' 
apologia,  but  was  not  satisfied. 

"  It's  clean  havers  aboot  the  muir.  Losh 
keep  s,  we've  a  sleepit  oot  and  never  been  a  hair 
the  waur. 

"A'  admit  that  England  micht  hae  dune  the 
job ;  it's  no  cannie  stravagin'  yon  wy  frae  place 
tae  place,  but  Drums  never  complained  tae  me 
as  if  he  hed  been  nippit  in  the  Sooth." 

The  parish  had,  in  fact,  lost  confidence  in 
Drums  after  his  wayward  experiment  with  a 
potato-digging  machine,  which  turned  out  a 
lamentable  failure,  and  his  premature  depa'ture 
confirmed  our  vague  impression  of  his  character. 

"He's  awa  noo,"  Drumsheugh  summed  up, 
after  opinion  had  time  to  form  ;  "an'  there  were 
waur  fouk  than  Drums,  but  there's  nae  doot  he 
wes  a  wee  flichty." 

When  illness  had  the  audacity  to  attack  a 
Drumtochty  man,  W.  A^as  described  as  a  "  whup," 
and  was  treated  by  the  men  with  a  fine  negli- 


202  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

gence.  Hillocks  was  sitting  in  the  Post  Office 
one  afternoon  when  I  looked  in  for  my  letters, 
and  the  right  side  of  his  face  was  blazing  red. 
His  subject  of  discourse  was  the  prospects  of  the 
turnip  ''breer,"  but  he  casually  explained  that  he 
was  waiting  for  medical  advice. 

"The  gudewife  is  keepin'  up  a  ding-dong  frae 
mornin'  till  nicht  aboot  ma  face,  and  a'm  fair 
deaved  (deafened),  so  a'm  watchin'  for  MacLure 
tae  get  a  bottle  as  he  comes  wast  ;  yon's  him 
noo." 

The  doctor  made  his  diagnosis  from  horseback 
on  sight,  and  stated  the  result  with  that  admirable 
clearness  which  endeared  him  to  Drumtochty. 

''Confoond  ye,  Hillocks,  what  are  ye  ploiterin' 
aboot  here  for  in  the  weet  wi'  a  face  like  a  boiled 
beet  ?  Div  ye  no  ken  that  ye've  a  titch  o'  the 
rose  (erysipelas),  and  ocht  tae  be  in  the  hoose? 
Gae  hame  wi'  ye  afore  a'  leave  the  bit,  and  send 
a  haflin  for  some  medicine.  Ye  donnerd  idiot, 
are  ye  ettlin  tae  follow  Drums  afore  yir  time.?" 
And  the  medical  attendant  of  Drumtochty  con- 
tinued his  invective  till  Hillocks  started,  and  still 
pursued  his  retreating  figure  with  m.edical  direc- 
tions of  a  simple  and  practical  character. 

"A'm  watchin',  an'  peety  ye  if  ye  pit  aff  time. 
Keep  yir  bed  the  mornin',  and  dinna  show  yir 
face  in  the  fields  till  a'  see  ye.  A'U  gie  ye  a  cry 
on  Monday — sic  an  auld  fule — but  there's  no  an* 
o'  them  tae  mend  anither  in  the  hale  pairish." 


A  GENERAL  PRACTITIONER.  203 

Hillocks'  wife  informed  the  kirkyaird  that  the 
doctor  "  gied  thegudeman  an  awfu' clearin'/'  and 
that  Hillocks  "  wes  keepin'  the  hoose,"  which 
meant  that  the  patient  had  tea  breakfast,  and  at 
that  time  was  wandering  about  the  farm  buildings 
in  an  easy  undress  with  his  head  in  a  plaid. 

It  was  impossible  for  a  doctor  to  earn  even  the 
most  modest  competence  from  a  people  of  such 
scandalous  health,  and  so  iVIacLure  had  annexed 
neighboring  parishes.  His  house — little  more 
than  a  cottage — stood  on  the  roadside  among  the 
pines  towards  the  head  of  our  Glen,  and  from  this 
base  of  operations  he  dominated  the  wild  glen 
that  broke  the  wall  of  the  Grampians  above 
Drumtochty — where  the  snowdrifts  were  twelve 
feet  deep  in  winter,  and  the  only  way  of  passage 
at  times  was  the  channel  of  the  river — and  the 
moorland  district  westwards  till  he  came  to  the 
Dunleith  sphere  of  influence,  where  there  were 
four  doctors  and  a  hydropathic.  Drumtochty  in 
its  length,  which  was  eight  miles,  and  its  breadth^ 
which  was  four,  lay  in  his  hand ;  besides  a  glen 
behind,  unknown  to  the  world,  which  in  the  night 
time  he  visited  at  the  risk  of  life,  for  the  way^ 
thereto  was  across  the  big  moor  with  its  peat 
holes  and  treacherous  bogs.  And  he  held  the  land 
eastwards  towards  Muirtown  so  far  as  Geordie,. 
the  Drumtochty  post,  travelled  every  day,  and 
could  carry  word  that  the  doctor  was  wanted. 
He  did  his  best  for  the  need  of  every  man,  woman. 


204  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

and  child  in  this  wild,  stragghng  district,  year  in, 
year  out,  in  the  snow  and  in  the  heat,  in  the  dark 
and  in  the  light,  without  rest,  and  without  holiday 
for  forty  years. 

One  horse  could  not  do  the  work  of  this  man, 
but  we  liked  best  to  see  him  on  his  old  white  mare, 
who  died  the  week  after  her  master,  and  the  pass- 
ing of  the  two  did  our  hearts  good.  It  was  not 
that  he  rode  beautifully,  for  h:  broke  every  canon 
of  art,  flying  with  his  arms,  stooping  till  he  seemed 
to  be  speaking  into  Jess's  ears,  and  rising  in  the 
saddle  beyond  all  necessity.  But  he  could  rise 
faster,  stay  longer  in  the  saddle,  and  had  a  firmer 
grip  WMth  his  knees  than  any  one  I  ever  met,  and 
it  was  all  for  mercy's  sake.  When  the  reapers  in 
harvest  time  saw  a  figure  whirling  past  in  a  cloud 
of  dust,  or  the  family  at  the  foot  of  Glen  Urtach, 
gathered  round  the  fire  on  a  winter's  night,  heard 
the  rattle  of  a  horse's  hoofs  on  the  road,  or  the 
shepherds,  out  after  the  sheep,  traced  a  black 
speck  moving  across  the  snow  to  the  upper  glen, 
they  knew  it  was  the  doctor,  and,  without  being 
conscious  of  it,  wished  him  God  speed. 

Before  and  behind  his  saddle  were  strapped  the 
-instruments  and  medicines  the  doctor  might  want, 
■for  he  never  knew  what  was  before  him.  There 
were  no  specialists  in  Drumtochty,  so  this  man 
had  to  do  everything  as  best  he  could,  and  as 
quickly.  He  was  chest  doctor  and  doctor  for 
every  other  organ  as  well ;  he  was  accoucheur 


A  GENERAL  PRACTITIONER. 


205 


and  surgeon  ;  he  was  oculist  and  aurist ;  he  was 
dentist  and  chloroformist,  besides  being  chemist 
and  druggist.  It  was  often  told  how  he  was  far 
up  Glen  Urtach  when  the  feeders  of  the  threshing 
mill  caught  young  Burnbrae,  and  how  he  only- 
stopped  to  change  horses  at  his  house,  and  gal- 
loped all  the  way  to  Burnbrae,  and  flung  himself 
off  his  horse  and  amputated  the  arm,  and  saved 
the  lad's  life. 

"You  would  hae  thocht  that  every  meenut  was 
an  hour,"  said  Jamie  Soutar,  who  had  been  at  the 
threshing,  **an'  a'U  never  forget  thepuir  lad  lying 
as  white  as  deith  on  the  floor  o'  the  loft,  wi'  his 
head  on  a  sheaf,  an'  Burnbrae  haudin'  the  band- 
age ticht  an'  prayin'  a'  the  while,  and  the  mither 
greetin'  in  the  corner. 

"  *  Will  he  never  come  } '  she  cries,  an'  a'  heard 
the  soond  o'  the  horse's  feet  on  the  road  a  mile 
awa  in  the  frosty  air. 

"■  *The  Lord  be  praised  !'  said  Burnbrae,  and 
a'  slippit  doon  the  ladder  as  the  doctor  came 
skelpin'  intae  the  close,  the  foam  fleein'  frae  his 
horse's  mooth. 

"  '  Whar  is  he .? '  wes  a'  that  passed  his  lips,  an* 
in  five  meenutes  he  had  him  on  the  feedin'  board, 
and  wes  at  his  wark — sic  wark,  neeburs — but  he 
did  it  weel.  An'  ae  thing  a'  thocht  rael  thochtfu* 
o'  him  :  he  first  sent  aff  the  laddie's  mither  tae 
^et  a  bed  ready. 

***Noo  that's  feenished,  and  his  constitution  'ill 


206         A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

dae  the  rest,'  and  he  carried  the  lad  doon  the 
ladder  in  his  airms  like  a  bairn,  and  laid  him  in 
his  bed,  and  waits  aside  him  till  he  wes  sleepin', 
and  then  says  he  :  '  Burnbrae,  yir  a  gey  lad  never 
tae  say  "  Collie,  will  ye  lick  ?  "  for  a'  hevna  tasted 
meat  for  saxteen  hoors.' 

''It  was  michty  tae  see  him  come  intae  the 
yaird  that  day,  neeburs ;  the  verra  look  o'  him 
wes  victory." 

Jamie's  cynicism  slipped  off  in  the  enthusiasm 
of  this  reminiscence,  and  he  expressed  the  feeling- 
of  Drumtochty.  No  one  sent  for  MacLure  save 
in  great  straits,  and  the  sight  of  him  put  courage 
in  sinking  hearts.  But  this  was  not  by  the  grace 
of  his  appearance,  or  the  advantage  of  a  good 
bedside  manner.  A  tall,  gaunt,  loosely  made 
man,  without  an  ounce  of  superfluous  flesh  on  his 
body,  his  face  burned  a  dark  brick  color  by  con- 
stant exposure  to  the  weather,  red  hair  and  beard 
turning  gray,  honest  blue  eyes  that  looked  you 
ever  in  the  face,  huge  hands  with  wrist  bones  like 
the  shank  of  a  ham,  and  a  voice  that  hurled  his 
salutations  across  two  fields,  he  suggested  the 
moor  rather  than  the  drawing-room.  But  what 
a  clever  hand  it  was  in  an  operation,  as  delicate 
as  a  woman's,  and  what  a  kindly  voice  it  was  in 
the  humble  room  where  the  shepherd's  wife  was 
weeping  by  her  man's  bedside.  He  was  "ill 
pitten  thegither  "  to  begin  with,  but  many  of  his 
physical  defects  were  the  penalties  of  his  work. 


A  Doctor  of  tiik  Old  School. 


A  GENERAL  PRACTITIONER.  207 

aixi  endeared  him  to  the  Glen.  That  ugly  scar 
that  cut  into  his  right  eyebrow  and  gave  him  such 
a  sinister  expression,  was  got  one  night  Jess 
slipped  on  the  ice  and  laid  him  insensible  eight 
miles  from  home.  His  limp  marked  the  big  snow- 
storm in  the  fifties,  when  his  horse  missed  the 
road  in  Glen  Urtach,  and  they  rolled  together  in 
a  drift.  MacLure  escaped  with  a  broken  leg  and 
the  fracture  of  three  ribs,  but  he  never  walked  like 
other  men  again.  He  could  not  swing  himself 
into  the  saddle  without  making  two  attempts  and 
holding  Jess's  mane.  Neither  can  you  ' '  warstle  " 
through  the  peat  bogs  and  snowdrifts  for  forty 
winters  without  atouch  of  rheumatism.  But  they 
were  honorable  scars,  and  for  such  risks  of  life 
men  get  the  Victoria  Cross  in  other  fields.  IVIac- 
Lure  got  nothing  but  the  secret  affection  of  the 
Glen,  which  knew  that  none  had  ever  done  one- 
tenth  as  much  for  it  as  this  ungainly,  twisted, 
battered  figure,  and  I  have  seen  a  Drumtochty 
face  soften  at  the  sight  of  MacLure  limping  to  his 
horse. 

Mr.  Hopps  earned  the  ill-will  of  the  Glen  for 
ever  by  criticising  the  doctor's  dress,  but  indeed 
it  would  have  filled  any  townsman  with  amaze- 
ment. Black  he  wore  once  a  year,  on  Sacrament 
Sunday,  and,  if  possible,  at  a  funeral  ;  top- 
coat or  waterproof  never.  His  jacket  and  waist- 
coat were  rough  homespun  of  Glen  Urtach  wool, 
whi:h  threw  off  the  wet  like  a  duck's  back,  and 


2o8         A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL, 

below  he  was  clad  in  shepherd's  tartan  trousers, 
which  disappeared  into  unpolished  riding  boots. 
His  shirt  was  gray  flannel,  and  he  was  uncertain 
about  a  collar,  but  certain  as  to  a  tie  which  he 
never  had,  his  beard  doing  instead,  and  his  hat 
was  soft  felt  of  four  colors  and  seven  different 
shapes.  His  point  of  distinction  in  dress  was  the 
trousers,  and  they  were  the  subject  of  unending 
speculation. 

"Some  threep  that  he's  worn  thae  eedentical 
pair  the  last  twenty  year,  an  a'  mind  masel  him 
gettin'  a  tear  ahint,  when  he  was  crossin'  oor 
palin*,  and  the  mend's  still  veesible. 

**Ithers  declare  'at  he's  got  a  wab  o' claith,  and 
hes  a  new  pair  made  in  IMuirtown  aince  in  the 
twa  year  maybe,  and  keeps  them  in  the  garden 
till  the  new  look  wears  aff. 

'*Forma  ain  pairt,"  Scutar  used  to  declare,  ''a* 
canna  mak  up  my  mind,  but  there's  ae  thing  sure, 
the  Glen  wud  not  like  tae  see  him  withoot  them  : 
it  wud  be  a  shock  tae  confidence.  There's  no 
muckle  o*  the  check  left,  but  ye  can  aye  tell  it, 
and  \\  hen  ye  see  thae  breeks  comin'  in  ye  ken 
that  if  human  pooer  can  save  yir  bairn's  life  it  'ill 
be  dune." 

The  confidence  of  the  Glen — and  tributary 
states — was  unbounded,  and  rested  partly  on  long 
experience  of  the  doctor's  resources,  and  partly 
on  his  hereditary  connection. 

"His  father  was  here  afore  him."  Mrs.  Mac- 


1 


i 


A  GENERAL  PRACTITIONER, 


209 


fadyen  used  to  explain;  "atween  them  they've 
hed  the  countyside  for  weel  on  tae  a  century  ;  if 
MacLure  disna  understand  oor  constitution,  wha 
dis,  a'  vvud  like  tae  ask  ?  " 

For  Drumtochty  had  its  own  constitution  and 
a  special  throat  disease,  as  became  a  parish  which 
was  quite  self-contained  between  the  woods  and 
the  hills,  and  not  dependent  on  the  lowlands 
either  for  its  diseases  or  its  doctors. 

''He's  a  skilly  man,  Doctor  MacLure/'  con- 
tinued my  friend  INIrs.  jMacfadyen,  whose  judge- 
ment on  sermons  or  anything  else  was  seldom  at 
fault;  "an' a  kind-hearted,  though  o'  coorse  he 
hes  his  faults  like  us  a',  an'  he  disna  tribble  the  Kirk 
often. 

"  He  aye  can  tell  what's  wrang  wi'  a  body,  an' 
maistly  he  can  put  ye  richt,  an'  there's  nae  new- 
fangled wys  wi'  him  :  a  blister  for  the  ootside  an* 
Epsom  salts  for  the  inside  dis  his  wark,  an'  they 
say  there's  no  an  herb  on  the  hills  he  disna  ken. 

"If  we're  tae  dee,  we're  tae  dee  ;  an'  if  we're 
tae  live,  we're  tae  live,"  concluded  Elspeth,  with 
sound  Calvinistic  logic;  ''but  a'll  say  this  for  the 
doctor,  that  whether  yir  tae  live  or  dee,  he  can 
aye  keep  up  a  sharp  meisture  on  the  skin. 

"  But  he's  no  verra  ceevil  ghi  ye  bring  him  when 
there's  naethin'  wrang,"  and  Mrs.  Macfadyen's 
face  reflected  another  of  Mr.  Hopps'  misadventures 
of  which  Hillocks  held  the  copyright. 

"  Hopps' laddie  ate  grosarts  (gooseberries)  till 
14 


210         A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL, 

they  hed  to  sit  up  a'*  nicht  wi'  him,  and  naething 
wud  do  but  they  maun  hae  the  doctor,  an'  he 
writes  'immediately  '  on  a  slip  o'  paper. 

"Weel,  MacLure  had  been  awa  a'  nicht  wi'  a 
shepherd's  wife  Dunleith  wy,  and  he  comes  here 
withoot  drawin'  bridle,  mud  up  tae  the  een. 

*'* What's  a  dae  here,  Hillocks?'  he  cries; 
'it's  no  an  accident,  is't?'  and  when  he  got  afS 
liis  horse  he  cud  hardly  stand  wi'  stiffness  and 
tire. 

'"'It's  nane  o' us,  doctor;  it's  Hopps' laddie  ; 
he's  been  eatin'  ower  mony  berries.' 

"If  he  didna  turn  on  me  like  a  tiger. 

*'  '  Div  ye  mean  tae  say ' 

*'  'Weesht,  weesht,'  an'  I  tried  tak  quiet  him, 
for  Hopps'  wes  comin'  oot. 

"  'Well,  doctor,'  begins  he,  as  brisk  as  a  magpie, 
*  you're  here  at  last;  there's  no  hurry  with  you 
Scotchmen.  ]\Iy  boy  has  been  sick  all  night,  and 
I've  never  had  one  wink  of  sleep.  You  might 
have  come  a  little  quicker,  that's  all  I've  got  to 
say.' 

*'  'We've  mair  tae  dae  in  Drumtochty  than 
attend  tae  every  bairn  that  hes  a  sair  stomach,' 
and  a'  saw  MacLure  wes  roosed. 

"'I'm  astonished  to  hear  you  speak.  Our 
doctor  at  home  always  says  to  Mrs.  'Opps,  "Look 
on  me  as  a  family  friend,  Mrs.  'Opps,  and  send 
for  me  though  it  be  only  a  headache." ' 

*'  '  He'd  be  mair  sparin'  o*  his  offers  if  he  hed 


A  GENERAL  PRACTITIONER.  211 

four  an'  twenty  mile  tae  look  aifter.  There's 
naething  wrang  wi'  yir  laddie  but  greed.  Gie 
him  a  gude  dose  o'  castor  oil  and  stop  his  meat 
for  a  day,  an'  he  'ill  be  a'  richt  the  morn.' 

''  'He  'ill  not  take  castor  oil,  doctor.  We  have 
given  up  those  barbarous  medicines.' 

*' '  Whatna  kind  o'  medicines  hae  ye  noo  in  the 
Sooth .? ' 

"'Well,  you  see,  Dr.  MacLure,  we're  homoeo- 
pathists,  and  I've  my  little  chest  here,'  and  oot 
Hopps  comes  wi'  his  boxy. 

"  '  Let's  see't,'  an'  MacLure  sits  doon  and  taks 
oot  the  bit  bottles,  and  he  reads  the  names  wi' 
a  lauch  every  time. 

'''Belladonna;  did  ye  ever  hear  the  like? 
Aconite  ;  it  cowes  a'.  Nux  Vomica.  What  next  ? 
Weel,  ma  mannie,'  he  says  tae  Hopps,  '  it's  a  fine 
ploy,  and  ye  'ill  better  gang  on  wi'  the  Nux  till 
it's  dune,  and  gie  him  ony  ither  o'  the  sweeties 
he  fancies. 

'"Noo,  Hillocks,  a'  maun  be  aff  tae  see 
Drumsheugh's  grieve,  for  he's  doon  wi'  the  fever, 
an'  it's  tae  be  a  teuch  fecht.  A'  hinna  time  tae 
wait  for  dinner ;  gie  me  some  cheese  an'  cake  in 
ma  haund,  and  Jess  'ill  tak  a  pail  o'  meal  an' 
water. 

"Fee;  a'm  no  wantin'  yir  fees,  man;  wi'  that 
boxy  ye  dinna  need  a  doctor  ;  na,  na,  gie  yir 
siller  tae  some  puir  body,  Maister  Hopps,'  an'  h« 
was  doon  the  road  as  hard  as  he  cud  lick." 


212         A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

His  fees  were  pretty  much  what  the  folk  chose 
to  give  him,  and  he  collected  them  once  a  year 
at  Kildrummie  fair. 

"Weel,  doctor,  what  am  a'  awin'  ye  for  the 
wife  and  bairn  !  Ye  'ill  need  three  notes  for  that 
night  ye  stayed  in  the  hoose  an'  a'  the  veesits." 

"Havers,"  INIacLure  would  answer,  ''prices 
are  low,  a'm  hearing;  gie's  thirty  shillings." 

"No,  a'll  no,  or  the  wife  'ill  tak  ma  ears  off," 
and  it  was  settled  for  two  pounds. 

Lord  Kilspindie  gave  him  a  free  house  and 
fields,  and  one  way  or  other,  Drumsheugh  told 
me,  the  doctor  might  get  in  about  ;^i  50  a  year, 
out  of  which  he  had  to  pay  his  old  housekeeper's 
wages  and  a  boy's,  and  keep  tw  horses,  besides 
the  cost  of  instruments  and  books,  which  he 
bought  through  a  friend  in  Edinburgh  with  much 
judgment. 

There  was  only  one  man  who  ever  complained 
of  the  doctor's  charges,  and  that  was  the  new 
farmer  of  ^lilton,  who  was  so  good  that  he  was 
above  both  churches,  and  held  a  meeting  in  hib 
barn.  (It  was  Milton  the  Glen  supposed  at  first 
to  be  a  Mormon,  but  I  can't  go  into  that  now.) 
He  offered  MacLure  a  pound  less  than  he  asked, 
and  two  tracts,  whereupon  ]MacLure  expressed 
his  opinion  of  Milton,  both  from  a  theological 
and  social  standpoint,  with  such  vigor  and  frank- 
ness that  an  attentive  audience  of  Drumtochtjf 
men  could  hardly  contain  themselves. 


1 


A  GEXERAL  PRACTITIONER.  213 

Jamie  Soiitar  was  selling  his  pig  at  the  time, 
and  missed  the  meeting,  but  he  hastened  to  con- 
dole with  Milton,  who  was  complaining  every- 
where of  the  doctor's  language. 

**Ye  did  richt  tae  resist  him;  it  'ill  maybe 
roose  the  Glen  tae  mak  a  stand  ;  he  fair  bauds 
them  in  bondage. 

**  Thirty  shillings  for  twal  veesits,  and  him  no 
mair  than  seeven  mile  awa,  an'  a'm  telt  there 
werena  mair  than  four  at  nicht. 

**Ye  'ill  hae  the  sympathy  o'  the  Glen,  for 
a'  body  kens  yir  as  free  wi'  yir  siller  as  yir 
tracts. 

' '  Wes't  '  Beware  o'  gude  warks '  ye  offered 
him }  Man,  ye  chose  it  weel,  for  he's  been  col- 
leckin'  sae  mony  thae  forty  years,  a'm  feared  for 
him. 

"A've  often  thocht  oor  doctor's  little  better 
than  the  Gude  Samaritan,  an'  the  Pharisees  didna 
think  muckle  o'  his  chance  aither  in  this  warld  or 
that  which  is  tae  come." 


II. 

THROUGH  THE  FLOOD. 

Doctor  MacLure  did  not  lead  a  solemn  pro- 
cession from  the  sick  bed  to  the  dining-room,  and 
give  his  opinion  from  the  hearthrug  with  an  air 
of  wisdom  bordering  on  the  supernatural,  because 
neither  the  Drumtochty  houses  nor  his  manners 
were  on  that  large  scale.  He  was  accustomed 
to  deliver  himself  in  the  yard,  and  to  conclude 
his  directions  with  one  foot  in  the  stirrup ;  but 
when  he  left  the  room  where  the  life  of  Annie 
Mitchell  was  ebbing  slowly  away,  our  doctor 
said  not  one  word,  and  at  sight  of  his  face  her 
husband's  heart  was  troubled. 

He  was  a  dull  man,  Tammas,  who  could  not 
read  the  meaning  of  a  sign,  and  labored  under  a 
perpetual  disability  of  speech  ;  but  love  was  eyes 
to  him  that  day,  and  a  mouth. 

''Is't  as  bad  as  yir  lookin',  doctor.?  tells  the 
truth  ;  wull  Annie  no  come  through  .? ''  and  Tam- 
mas looked  MacLure  straight  in  the  face,  who 
■never  flinched  his  duty  or  said  smooth  things. 

**A'  wud  gie  onything  tae  say  Annie  hes  a 
214 


THROUGH  THE  FLOOD.  215 

chance,  but  a'  daurna  ;  a'  doot  yer  gaein'  tae 
lose  her,  Tammas. " 

MacLure  was  in  the  saddle,  and  as  he  gave 
his  judgment  he  laid  his  hand  on  Tammas's 
shoulder  with  one  of  the  rare  caresses  that  pass 
between  men. 

"It's  a  sair  business,  but  ye  'ill  play  the  man 
and  no  vex  Annie  ;  she  'ill  dae  her  best,  a'U 
warrant." 

"An"  a'U  dae  mine,"  and  Tammas  gave  Mac- 
Lure's  hand  a  grip  that  would  have  crushed  the 
bones  of  a  weakling.  Drumtochty  felt  in  such 
moments  the  brotherliness  of  this  rough-looking 
man,  and  loved  him. 

Tammas  hid  his  face  in  Jess's  mane,  who 
looked  round  with  sorrow  in  her  beautiful  eyes, 
for  she  had  seen  many  tragedies,  and  in  this 
silent  sympathy  the  stricken  man  drank  his  cup, 
drop  by  drop. 

"A'  wesna  prepar  d  for  ''1:.,  for  a'  aye  thocht 
she  wud  live  the  langest.  .  .  .  She's  younger 
than  me  by  ten  ye  rs,  and  never  wes  .11.  .  .  . 
We've  been  mairit  twal  y.ar  laist  M  rtinmas,  but 
it'sjuist  like  a  year  the  d-^yc  .  .  .  Awes  never 
worthy  o'  her,  the  bonniest,  snoddest  (neatest), 
kindliest  lass  in  the  Glen.  ...  A'  never  cud  mak 
cot  hoo  she  ever  lookit  at  me,  'a  hesna  hed  ae 
word  tae  say  aboot  her  ti!I  it'  ower  late.  .  .  . 
She  didna  cuist  up  tae  me  th  t  a'  wasna  worthy 
o'  her,   no  her,   but  aye  she  said,    *Yir  ma  ain 


2l6         A  DOCTOR  OF  THE   OLD  SCHOOL. 

gudeman,  and  nane  cud  be  kinder  tae  me.'  .  .  . 
An'  a'  wes  minded  tae  be  kind,  but  a'  see  noo 
mony  little  strokes  a'  micht  hae  dune  for  her,  and 
noo  the  time  is  bye.  .  .  .  Naebody  kens  hoc 
patient  she  wes  wi'  me,  and  aye  made  the  best 
o'  me,  an'  never  pit  me  tae  shame  afore  the  fouk. 
.  .  .  An'  we  never  hed  ae  cross  word,  no  ane  in 
twal  year.  .  .  .  We  were  mair  nor  man  and  wife, 
we  were  sweethearts  a'  the  time.  .  .  .  Oh,  ma 
bonny  lass,  what  'ill  the  bairnies  an'  me  dae 
withoot  ye,  Annie  }  " 

The  winter  night  was  falling  fast,  the  snow  lay 
deep  upon  the  ground,  and  the  merciless  north 
wind  moaned  through  the  close  as  Tammas 
wrestled  with  his  sorrow  dry-eyed,  for  tears 
were  denied  Drumtochty  men.  Neil  er  he 
doctor  nor  Jess  moved  hand  or  foot,  but  their 
hearts  were  with  their  fellow-creature,  and  at 
length  the  doctor  made  a  sign  to  IMarget  Howe, 
who  had  come  out  in  search  of  Tammas,  and 
now  stood  by  his  side. 

''Dmna  mourn  tae  the  brakin'  o'  yir  hert, 
Tammas,"  she  said,  "as  if  Annie  an'  you  hed 
never  luved.  Neither  death  nor  time  can  pairt 
them  that  luve  ;  there's  naethin'  in  a'  the  warld  sae 
strong  a:  luve.  If  Annie  gaes  frae  the  sicht  o' 
yir  een  she  'ill  .ome  the  nearer  tae  yir  hert.  She 
wants  tae  see  ye,  and  tae  hear  ye  say  that  ye  ill 
never  forget  her  nicht  nor  day  till  ye  meet  in  the 
land  where  there's  nae  pairtin. '     Oh,  a'  ken  what 


THROUGH  THE  FLOOD.  217 

a'm  sayin'  for  it's  five  year  noo  sin  George  gied 
awa,  an'  he's  mair  wi'  me  noo  than  when  he  wes 
in  Edinboro'  and  I  wes  in  Drumtochty. " 

"Thank  ye  kindly,  INIarget  ;  thae  are  gude 
words  and  true,  an'  ye  hev  the  richt  tae  say  them  ; 
but  a'  canna  dae  without  seein'  Annie  comin'  tae 
meet  me  in  the  gloamin',  an'  gaein'  in  an'  oot  the 
hoose,  an'  hearin'  her  ca'  me  by  ma  name,  an'  a'll 
no  can  tell  her  that  a'  luve  her  when  there's  nae 
Annie  in  the  hoose. 

* '  Can  ndethin'  be  dune,  doctor  ?  Ye  savit  Flora 
Cammil,  and  young  Burnbrae,  an'  yon  shepherd's 
wife  Dunleith  wy,  an'  we  were  a'  sae  prood  o'  ye, 
an'  pleased  tae  think  that  ye  hed  keepit  deith  frae 
anither  hame.  Can  ye  no  think  o'  somethin'  tae 
help  Annie,  and  gie  her  back  tae  her  man  and 
bairnies  ? "  and  Tammas  searched  the  doctor's 
face  in  the  cold,  weird  light. 

'*  There's  nae  pooer  in  heaven  or  airth  like  luve, " 
Marget  aid  to  me  afterwards  ;  "  it  maks  the  weak 
str  ng  nd  the  dumb  tae  speak.  Oor  herts  were 
as  ./ater  afore  Tammas's  words,  an'  a'  saw  the 
do  )r  .hake  in  his  saddle.  A'  never  kent  till  that 
mecnut  hoo  he  hed  a  share  in  a'body's  grief,  an' 
carried  the  heaviest  wecht  o'  a'  the  Glen.  A'  pee- 
tied  him  wi'  Tammas  lookin'  at  him  sae  wistfully, 
as  if  he  had  the  keyso'  life  an'  deith  in  his  hands. 
But  he  wes  honest,  and  wudna  hold  oot  a  false 
houp  tae  deceive  a  sore  hert  or  win  escape  foi 
himsel'." 


2l8  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

"Ye  needna  plead  \vi  me.  Tammas,  to  dae  the 
best  a'  can  for  yir  wife.  ^Nlan,  a'  kent  her  lang 
afore  ye  ever  hived  her  ;  a'  brocht  her  intae  the 
warld,  and  a'  saw  her  through  the  fever  wlien  she 
wes  a  bit  lassikie  ;  a'  closed  hermither's  een,  and 
it  wes  me  hed  tae  tell  her  she  wes  an  orphan,  an' 
nae  man  wes  better  pleased  when  she  got  a  gude 
husband,  and  a'  helpit  her  wi"  her  fower  bairns. 
A've  naither  wife  nor  bairns  o'  ma  own,  an'  a' 
coont  a'  the  fouk  o'  the  Glen  ma  family.  Div  ye 
think  a'  wudna  save  Annie  if  I  cud.?  If  there  wes 
a  man  in  Muirtown  'at  cud  dae  mair  for  her,  ad 
have  him  this  verra  nicht,  but  a'  the  doctors  in 
Perthshire  are  helpless  for  this  tribble. 

"Tammas.  ma  puir  fallow,  if  it  could  avail,  a' 
tell  ye  a'  wud  lay  doon  this  auld  worn-oot  ruckle 
o'  a  body  o'  mine  juist  tae  see  ye  baith  sittin'  at 
the  fireside,  an  the  bairns  roond  ye,  couthy  an' 
canty  again  ;  but  it  s  no  tae  be,  Tammas,  it's  no 
tae  be." 

"When  a'  lookit  at  the  doctor's  face,"  Marget 
said,  *'a'  thocht  him  the  winsomest  man  a' ever 
saw.  He  wes  transfigured  that  nicht,  for  a'm 
judging  there's    nae  transfiguration  like  luve." 

"It's  God's  wuU  an'  maun  be  borne,  but  it's  a 
sair  wull  for  me,  an'  a'm  no  ungratefu'  tae  you, 
doctor,  for  a'  ye've  dune  and  what  ye  sa  il  the 
nicht,"  and  Tammas  went  back  to  sit  with  .  \nnie 
for  the  last  time. 

Jess  picked  her  way  through  the  deep  snow  to 


THROUGH  THE  FLOOD. 


219 


the  main  road,  with  a  skill  that  came  of  long  ex- 
perience, and  the  doctor  held  converse  with  her 
according  to  his  wont. 

"Eh,  Jess  wumman,  yon  w^esthe  hardest  wark 
a'  hae  tae  face,  and  a'  wud  raither  hae  ta'en  ma 
chance  o'  anither  row  in  a  Glen  Urtach  drift  than 
tell  Tammas  Mitchell  his  wife  wes  deein'. 

"A'  said  she  cudna  be  cured,  and  it  wes  true, 
for  there's  juist  ae  man  in  the  land  fit  for't  and 
they  micht  as  weel  try  tae  get  the  mune  oot  o' 
heaven.  Sae  a'  said  naethin'  tae  vex  Tammas's 
hert,  for  it's  heavy  eneuch  withoot  regrets. 

"But  it's  hard,  Jess,  that  money  wull  buy  life 
after  a',  an'  if  Annie  wes  a  duchess  her  man  wudna 
lose  her ;  but  bein'  only  a  puir  cottar's  wife,  she 
maun  dee  afore  the  week's  oot." 

"Gin  we  hed  him  the  morn  there's  little  doot 
she  wud  be  saved,  for  he  hesna  lost  mair  than  five 
per  cent,  o'  his  cases,  and  they  'ill  be  puir  toon's 
craturs,  no  strappin'  women  like  Annie. 

"It's  oot  o'  the  question,  Jess,  sae  hurry  up, 
lass,  for  we've  hed  a  heavy  day.  But  it  wud  be 
the  grandest  thing  that  was  ever  dune  in  the  Glen 
in  oor  time  if  it  could  be  managed  by  hook  or 
crook. 

'"We  'ill  gang  and  see  Drumsheugh,  Jess  ;  he's 
anither  man  sin'  Geordie  Hoo's  deith,  and  he  wes 
aye  kinder  than  fouk  kent ;  "  and  the  doctor  passed 
at  a  gallop  through  the  village,  whose  lights  shone 
across  the  white  frost-bound  road. 


220         A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

**Come  in  by,  doctor  ;  a'  heard  ye  on  the  road  ; 
ye  'ill  hae  been  at  Tammas  Mitchell's ;  hoo's  the 
gudewife  ?  a'  doot  she's  sober." 

''Annie's  deein',  Drumsheugh,  an  Tammas  is 
like  tae  brak  his  hert." 

"That's  no  lichtsome,  doctor,  nolichtsomeava, 
for  a'dinna  ken  ony  man  in  Drumtochty  sae  bund 
up  in  his  wife  as  Tammas,  and  there's  no  a  bon- 
nier wumman  o'  her  age  crosses  cor  kirk  door 
than  Annie,  nor  a  cleverer  at  her  wark.  Man,  ye 
'ill  need  tae  pit  yir  brains  in  steep.  Is  she  clean 
beyond  ye }  " 

"Beyond  me  and  every  ither  in  the  land  but 
ane,  and  it  wud  cost  a  hundred  guineas  tae  bring 
him  tae  Drumtochty." 

* '  Certes,  he's  no  blate  ;  it's  a  fell  chairge  for  a 
short  day's  work ;  but  hundred  or  no  hundred  we 
'ill  hae  him,  an'  no  let  Annie  gang,  and  her  no 
half  her  years." 

"Are  ye  meanin'  it,  Drumsheugh?"  and  Mac- 
Lure  turned  white  below  the  tan. 

"William  MacLure,"  said  Drumsheugh,  in  one 
of  the  few  confidences  that  ever  broke  the  Drum- 
tochty reserve,  "am  a  lonely  man,  wi' naebody 
o'  ma  ain  blude  tae  care  for  me  livin',  or  tae  hft 
me  intae  me  coffin  When  a'm  deid. 

"A'  fecht  awa  at  Muirtown  market  for  an  extra 
pund  on  a  beast,  or  a  shillin'  on  the  quarter  o'  bar- 
ley, an'  what's  the  gude  -'t?  Burnbrae  gaes  afi 
tae  get  a  goon  for  his  wife  or  a  buke  for  his  col- 


THROUGH  THE  FLOOD.  221 

lege  laddie,  an'  Lachlan  Campbell  'ill  no  leave  the 
place  noo  withoot  a  ribbon  for  Flora. 

*' Ilka  man  in  the  Kildrummie  train  has  some 
bit  fairin'  in  his  pooch  for  the  fouk  at  hame  that 
he's  bocht  wi"  the  siller  he  won. 

"But  there's  naebody  tae  be  lookin'  oot  for  me, 
an'  comin'  doon  the  road  tae  meet  me,  and  daffin 
(joking)  wi'  me  aboot  their  fairing,  or  feeling  ma 
pockets.  Ou  ay,  a've  seen  it  a'  at  ither  hooses, 
though  they  tried  tae  hide  it  frae  me  for  fear  a'  wud 
lauch  at  them.  Me  lauch,  wi'  ma  cauld,  empty 
hame  ! 

'' Yir  the  only  man  kens,  Weelum,  that  I  aince 
luved  the  noblest  wumman  in  the  Glen  or  ony- 
where,  an'  a  luve  her  still,  but  wi'  anither  luve 
noo. 

*'  She  hed  given  her  heart  tae  anither,  or  a've 
thocht  a'  micht  hae  won  her,  though  nae  man  be 
worthy  o'  sic  a  gift.  Ma  hert  turned  tae  bitter- 
ness, but  that  passed  awa  beside  the  brier  bush 
whar  George  Hoo  lay  yon  sad  simmer  time. 
Some  day  a'll  tell  ye  ma  story,  Weelum,  for  you 
an'  me  are  auld  freends,  and  will  be  till  we 
dee." 

MacLure  felt  beneath  the  table  for  Drum- 
sheugh's  hand,  but  neither  man  looked  at  the 
other. 

"Weel,  a'  we  can  dae  noo,  Weelum,  gin  we 
haena  mickle  brichtness  in  cor  ain  hames,  is  tae 
keap  tie  iicht  frae  gaein'  oot  in  anither  hoose. 


22  2  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

Write  the  telegram,  man,  and  Sandy  'ill  send  it 
aff  frae  Kildrummie  this  verra  nicht,  and  ye  'ill 
hae  yir  man  the  morn. " 

**  Yir  the  man  a'  coonted  ye,  Drumsheugh,  but 
ye  'ill  grant  me  ae  favor.  Ye  'ill  lat  me  pay  the 
half,  bit  by  bit —  a'  ken  yir  wuUin'  tae  dae't  a', — 
but  a'  haena  mony  pleesures,  an'  a'  wud  like  tae 
hae  ma  ain  share  in  savin'  Annie's  life." 

Next  morning  a  figure  received  Sir  George  on 
the  Kildrummie  platform,  whom  that  famous 
surgeon  took  for  a  gillie,  but  who  introduced  him- 
self as  "  MacLure  of  Drumtochty."  It  seemed 
as  if  the  East  had  come  to  meet  the  West  when 
these  two  stood  together,  the  one  in  travelling 
furs,  handsome  and  distinguished,  with  his  strong, 
cultured  face  and  carriage  of  authority,  a  charac- 
teristic type  of  his  profession  ;  and  the  other  more 
marvellously  dressed  than  ever,  for  Drumsheugh's 
topcoat  had  been  forced  upon  him  for  the  occa- 
sion, his  face  and  neck  one  redness  with-the  bitter 
cold  ;  rough  and  ungainly,  yet  not  without  some 
signs  of  power  in  his  eye  and  voice,  the  most 
heroic  type  of  his  noble  profession.  MacLure 
compassed  the  precious  arrival  with  observances 
till  he  was  securely  seated  in  Drumsheugh's  dog- 
cart— a  vehicle  that  lent  itself  to  history — with 
two  full-sized  plaids  added  to  his  equipment — 
Drumsheugh  and  Hillocks  had  both  been  requisi- 
tioned— and  WacLure  wrapped  another  plaid 
round  a  leather  case,  which  was  placed  below 


THROUGH  THE  FLOOD. 


23 


the  seat  with  such  reverence  as  might  be  given  to 
the  Queen's  regalia.  Peter  attended  their  depart- 
ure full  of  interest,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  in 
the  fir  woods  MacLure  explained  that  it  would  be 
an  eventful  journey. 

"It's  a'  richt  in  here,  for  the  wind  disna  get  at 
the  snaw,  but  the  drifts  are  deep  in  the  Glen,  and 
th'ill  be  some  engineerin'  afore  we  get  tae  oor 
destination." 

Four  times  they  left  the  road  and  took  their 
way  over  fields,  twice  they  forced  a  passage 
through  a  slap  in  a  dyke,  thrice  they  used  gaps  in 
the  paling  which  MacLure  had  made  on  his 
downward  journey. 

''  A'  seleckit  the  road  this  mornin',  an'  a'  ken 
the  depth  tae  an  inch  ;  we  'ill  get  through  this 
steadin'  here  tae  the  main  road,  but  oor  worst  job 
'ill  be  crossin'  the  Tochty. 

'*  Ye  see  the  bridge  hes  been  shakin'  wi'  this 
winter's  flood,  and  we  daurna  venture  on  it,  sae 
we  hev  tae  ford,  and  the  snaw's  been  melting 
up  Urtach  way.  There's  nae  doot  the  waters 
gey  big,  an'  it's  threatenin  'tae  rise,  but  we  'ill 
win  through  wi'  a  warstle. 

"  It  micht  be  safer  tae  lift  the  instruments  oot 
o'  reach  o'  the  water ;  wud  ye  mind  haddin'them 
on  yir  knee  till  we're  ower,  an'  keep  firm  in  yir 
seat  in  case  we  come  on  a  stane  in  the  bed  o'  the 
river." 

By  this  time  they  had  come  to  the  edge,  and  it 


224         ^  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

was  not  a  cheering  sight.  The  Tochty  had 
spread  out  over  the  meadows,  and  while  they 
waited  they  could  see  it  cover  another  two  inches 
on  the  trunk  of  a  tree.  There  are  summer  floods, 
when  the  water  is  brown  and  flecked  with  foam, 
but  this  was  a  winter  flood,  which  is  black  and 
sullen,  and  runs  in  the  centre  with  a  strong,  fierce, 
silent  current.  Upon  the  opposite  side  Hillocks 
stood  to  give  directions  by  word  and  hand,  as 
the  ford  was  on  his  land,  and  none  knew  the 
Tochty  better  in  all  its  ways. 

They  passed  through  the  shallow  water  without 
mishap,  save  when  the  wheel  struck  a  hidden 
stone  or  fell  suddenly  into  a  rut ;  but  when  they 
neared  the  body  of  the  river  JMacLure  halted,  to 
give  Jess  a  minute's  breathing. 

"It  'ill  tak  yea'  yir  time,  lass,  an'  a'  wud 
raither  be  on  yir  back  ;  but  ye  never  failed  me 
yet,  and  a  wumman's  life  is  hangin'  on  the 
crossin'." 

With  the  first  plunge  into  the  bed  of  the  stream 
the  water  rose  to  the  axles,  and  then  it  crept  up 
to  the  shafts,  so  that  the  surgeon  could  feel  it 
lapping  in  about  his  feet,  while  the  dogcart  began 
to  quiver,  and  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  to  be  carried 
away.  Sir  George  was  as  brave  as  most  men, 
but  he  had  never  forded  a  Highland  river  in  flood, 
and  the  mass  of  black  water  racing  past  beneath, 
before,  behind  him,  aff"ected  his  imagination  and 
shook  his  nerves.     He  rose    from  his  seat  and 


THROUGH  THE  FLOOD.  225 

ordered  MacLure  to  turn  back,  declaring-  that  he 
would  be  condemned  utterly  and  eternally  if 
he  allowed  himself  to  be  drowned  for  any 
person. 

**Sitdoon,"  thundered  ^MacLure  ;  ''condemned 
ye  will  be  suner  or  later  gin  ye  shirk  yir  duty,  but 
through  the  water  ye  gang  the  day." 

Both  men  spoke  much  more  strongly  and 
shortly,  but  this  is  what  they  intended  to  say,  and 
it  was  MacLure  that  prevailed. 

Jess  trailed  her  feet  along  the  ground  with 
cunning  art,  and  held  her  shoulder  against  the 
stream  ;  MacLure  leant  forward  in  his  seat,  a  reiij 
in  each  hand,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  Hillocks,  who, 
was  now  standing  up  to  the  waist  in  the  water, 
shouting  directions  and  cheering  on  horse  and 
driver. 

"Haud  tae  the  richt,  doctor;  there's  a  hole 
yonder.  Keep  oot  o't  for  ony  sake.  That's  it  ; 
yir  daein'  fine.  Steady,  man,  steady.  Yir  at  the 
deepest ;  sit  heavy  in  yir  seats.  Up  the  channel 
noo,  an'  ye  'ill  be  oot  o'  the  swirl.  Weel  dune, 
Jess,  weel  dune,  auld  mare  !  Mak  straicht  for 
me,  doctor,  an'  a'll  gie  ye  the  road  oot.  Ma 
word,  ye've  dune  yir  best,  baith  o'  ye  this  morn- 
in',"  cried  Hillocks,  splashing  up  to  the  dogcart, 
now  in  the  shallows. 

**Sall,  it  wes  titch   an'  go  for  a  meenut  in  the 
middle ;    a   Hielan'  ford    is  a  kittle   (hazardous) 
road  in  the  snaw  time,  but  ye're  safe  noo. 
15 


226  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL/ 

"Gude  luck  tae  ye  up  at  Westerton,  sir  ;  nane 
but  a  richt-hearted  man  wud  hae  riskit  the 
Tochty  in  flood.  Ye're  boond  tae  succeed  aifter 
sic  a  graund  beginnin',"  for  it  had  spread  already 
that  a  famous  surgeon  had  come  to  do  his  best 
for  Annie,  Tammas  Mitchell's  wife. 

Two  hours  later  IMacLure  came  out  from 
Annie's  room  and  laid  hold  of  Tammas,  a  heap 
of  speechless  misery  by  the  kitchen  fire,  and 
carried  him  off  to  the  barn,  and  spread  some  corn 
on  the  threshing-floor  and  thrust  a  flail  into  his 
hands. 

*'  Xoo  we've  tae  begin,  an'  we  'ill  no  be  dune 
for  an'  oor,  and  ye've  tae  lay  on  without  stoppin' 
till  a'  come  for  ye,  an'  all  shut  the  door  tae  baud 
in  the  noise,  an'  keep  yir  dog  beside  ye,  for  there 
maunna  be  a  cheep  aboot  the  hoose  for  Annie's 
sake." 

**A'llda     onything  ye  want  me,  but  if — if " 

"  A"ll  come  for  ye,  Tammas,  gin  there  be 
danger  -  but  what  are  ye  feared  for  wi'  the  Queens 
ain  s  rgeon  here  }  " 

Fifty  min  .tes  did  the  flail  rise  and  fall,  save 
twice,  when  Tammas  crept  to  the  door  and 
listened,  the  dog  lifting  his  head  and  whining. 

It  seemed  twelve  hours  instead  of  one  when 
the  door  swung  back,  and  IMacLure  filled  the 
doorway,  preceded  by  a  great  burst  of  light,  for 
the  sun  had  arisen  on  the  snow. 

His  face  was  as  tidings  of  great  joy,  and  Elspeth 


THROUGH  THE  FLOOD. 


227 


told  me  that  there  was  nothing  like  it  to  be  seen 
that  afternoon  for  glory,  save  the  sun  itself  in  the 
heavens. 

*'A'  never  saw  the  marrow  o't,  Tammas,  an' 
a'U  never  see  the  like  again  ;  it's  a'  ower,  man, 
withoot  a  hitch  frae  beginnin'  tae  end,  and  she's 
fa'in'  asleep  as  fine  as  ye  like." 

"  Dis  he  think  Annie     .   .   .   'ill  live.?'' 

"Of  coorse  he  dis,  and  be  aboot  the  hoose 
inside  a  month  ;  that's  the  gude  o'  bein'  a  clean- 
bluided,  weel-livin' " 

"Preserve  ye,  man,  what's  wrang  wi'  ye  .^^  it's 
a  mercy  a'  keppit  ye,  or  we  wud  hev  hed  anither 
job  for  Sir  George. 

"Ye're  a'  richt  noo  ;  sit  doon  on  the  strae. 
A'U  come  back  in  a  whilie,  an'  ye  'ill  see  Annie 
juist  for  a  meenut,  but   ye  maunna  say  a  word." 

Marget  took  him  in  and  let  him  kneel  by  Annie's 
bedside. 

He  said  nothing  then  or  afterwards,  for  speech 
came  only  once  in  his  lifetime  to  Tammas,  but 
Annie  whispered,   "  ]\Ia  ain  dear  man.' 

When  the  doctor  placed  the  precious  bag  beside 
Sir  George  in  our  solitary  first  next  morning,  he 
laid  a  cheque  beside  it  and  was  about  to  leave. 

"No,  no,"  said  the  great  man.  "Mrs.  Mac- 
fadyen  and  I  were  on  the  gossip  last  night,  and  I 
know  the  whole  story  about  you  and  your  friend. 

"You  have  some  right  to  call  me  a  coward, 
but  I'll  never  let  you  count  me  a   mean,  miserly 


228  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

rascal,"  and  the  cheque  with  Drumsheugh's  pain- 
ful writing  fell  in  fifty  pieces  on  the  floor. 

As  the  train  began  to  move,  a  voice  from  the 
first  called  so  that  all  in  the  station  heard. 

"Give's  another  shake  of  your  hand,  I\Iac"Lure  ; 
I'm  proud  to  have  met  you  ;  you  are  an  honor 
to  our  profession.      Mind  the  antiseptic  dressings. " 

It  was  market  day,  but  only  Jamie  Soutar  and 
Hillocks  had  ventured  down. 

*'  Did  ye  hear  yon,  Hillocks  }  hoo  dae  ye  feel? 
A'll  no  deny  a'm  lifted." 

Halfway  to  the  Junction  Hillocks  had  recovered, 
and  began  to  grasp  the  situation. 

"Tell's  what  he  said.  A'  wud  like  to  hae  it 
exact  for  Drumsheugh. " 

"Thae's  the  eedentical  words,  an'  they're  true  ; 
there's  no  a  man  in  Drumtochty  disna  ken  that, 
except  ane.' 

"An'  wha's  that,  Jamie  1 " 

**It's  Weelum  IMacLure  himsel.  Man,  a've 
often  girned  that  he  sud  fecht  awa  for  us  a',  and 
maybe  dee  before  he  kent  that  he  hed  githered 
mair  luve  than  ony  man  in  the  Glen. 

"  'A'm  prood  tae  hae  met  ye,'  says  Sir  George, 
an'  him  the  greatest  doctor  in  the  land.  '  Yir  an 
honor  tae  oor  profession.' 

"Hillocks,  a' wudna  hae  missed  it  for  twenty 
notes,"  said  James  Soutar,  cynic-in-ordinary  to 
the  parish  of  Drumtochty. 


i 


III. 

A  FIGHT  WITH  DEATH. 

When  Drumsheugh's  grieve  was  brought  to  the 
gates  of  death  by  fever,  caught,  as  was  supposed, 
on  an  adventurous  visit  to  Glasgow,  the  London 
doctor  at  Lord  Kilspindie's  shooting  lodge  looked 
in  on  his  way  from  the  moor,  and  declared  it  im- 
possible for  Saunders  to  live  through  the  night. 

"I  give  him  six  hours,  more  or  less  ;  it  is  only 
a  question  of  time,"  said  the  oracle,  buttoning  his 
gloves  and  getting  into  the  brake;  "tell  your 
parish  doctor  that  I  was  sorry  not  to  have  met 
him." 

Bell  heard  this  verdict  from  behind  the  door, 
and  gave  vray  utterly,  but  Drumsheugh  declined 
to  accept  it  as  final,  and  devoted  himself  to  con- 
solation. 

'*  Dinna  greet  like  that,  Bell  wumman,  sae  lang 
as  Saunders  is  still  livin' ;  a'll  never  give  up  houp, 
for  ma  pairt,  till  oor  ain  man  says  the  word. 

"  A'  the  doctors  in  the  land  dinna  ken  as  muckle 
about  us  as  Weelum  MacLure,  an'  he's  ill  tae 
beat  when  he's  tryin'  tae  save  a  man's  life." 

MacLure,   on  his  coming,  would  say  nothing, 

229 


230         A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

either  weal  or  woe,  till  he  had  examined  Saunders. 
Suddenly,  his  face  turned  into  iron  before  their 
eyes,  and  he  looked  like  one  encountering  a 
merciless  foe.  For  there  was  a  feud  between 
MacLure  and  a  certain  mighty  power  which  had 
lasted  for  forty  years  in  Drumtochty. 

''The  London  doctor  said  that  Saunders  wud 
sough  awa  afore  mornin,'  did  he?  Weel,  he's  an 
authority  on  fevers  an'  sic  like  diseases,  an'  ought 
tae  ken. 

**  It's  maybe  presumptous  o'  me  tae  differ  frae 
him,  and  it  wudna  be  verra  respectfu'  o'  Saunders 
tae  live  aifter  this  opeenion.  But  Saunders  wes 
aye  thraun  an  'ill  tae  drive,  an'  he's  as  like  as  no 
tae  gang  his  ain  gait. 

''A'mno  meanin' tae  reflect  on  sae  clever  a 
man,  but  he  didna  ken  the  seetuation.  He  can 
read  fevers  like  a  buik,  but  he  never  cam  across 
sic  a  thing  as  the  Drumtochty  constitution  a'  his 
days. 

Ve  see,  when  onybody  gets  as  low  as  puir 
Saunders  here  it's  juist  a  hand-to-hand  wrastle 
atween  the  fever  and  his  constitution,  an'  of 
coorse,  if  he  hed  been  a  shilpit,  stuntit,  feckless 
effeegy  o'  a  cratur,  fed  on  tea  an'  made  dishes  and 
pushioned  wi'  bad  air,  Saunders  wud  hae  nae 
chance  ;  he  wes  boond  tae  gae  oot  like  the  snuff 
o'  a  candle. 

**But  Saunders  hes  been  fillin'  his  lungs  for 
five  and  thirty  year  wi'  strong  Drumtochty  air, 


A  FIGHT  WITH  DBA  TH. 


231 


an'  eatin'  naethin'  but  kirny  aitmeal,  and  drinkin' 
naethin'  but  fresh  milk  frae  the  coo,  an'  follovvin 
the  ploo  through  the  new-turned,  svveet-smelHn* 
earth,  an'  swing-in'  the  scythe  in  haytime  and 
harvest,  till  the  legs  an'  airms  o'  him  were  iron, 
an'  his  chest  wes  Hke  the  cuttin'  o'  an  oak  tree. 

''He's  a  waesome  sicht  the  nicht,  but  Saunders 
wes  a  buirdly  man  aince,  and  wuU  never  lat  his 
life  be  taken  lichtly  frae  him.  Na,  na,  he  hesna 
sinned  against  Nature,  and  Nature  'ill  stand  by 
him  noo  in  his  oor  o'  distress. 

''A'  daurna  say  yea,  Bell,  muckle  as  a' wud 
like,  for  this  is  an  evil  disease,  cunnin*  an'  treach' 
erous  as  the  deevil  himsel',  but  a*  winna  say  nay, 
sae  keep  yir  hert  frae  despair. 

**It  wull  be  a  sair  fecht,  but  it  'ill  be  settled  one 
wy  or  anither  by  sax  o'clock  the  morn's  morn. 
Nae  man  can  prophecee  hoo  it  'ill  end,  but  ae 
thing  is  certain,  a'll  no  see  deith  tak  a  Drumtochty 
man  afore  his  time  if  a'  can  help  it. 

''  Noo,  Bell,  ma  wumman,  yir  near  deid  wi'  tire, 
an'  nae  wonder.  Ye've  dune  a'  ye  cud  for  yir 
man,  an'  ye  'ill  lippen  (trust)  him  the  nicht  tae 
Drumsheugh  an'  me ;  we  'ill  no  fail  him  or  you. 

''Liedoon  an'  rest,  an'  if  it  be  the  wull  o'  the 
Almichty  a'll  wauken  ye  in  the  mornin'  tae  see  a 
livin'  conscious  man,  an'  if  it  be  itherwise  a'll 
come  for  ye  the  suner.  Bell,'  and  the  big  red  hand 
went  out  to  the  anxious  wife.  "A'  gie  ye  ma 
word. " 


2^2 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL, 


Bell  leant  over  the  bed  and  at  the  sight  of 
Saunders'  face  a  superstitious  dread  seized  her. 

**See,  doctor,  the  shadow  of  deith  is  on  him 
that  never  lifts.  A've  seen  it  afore,  on  ma  father 
an'  mither.  A'  canna  leave  him,  a'  canna  leave 
him. " 

"It's  hoverin'.  Bell,  but  it  hesna  fallen  ;  please 
God  it  never  wull.  Gang  but  and  get  some  sleep, 
for  it's  time  we  were  at  oor  work. 

"The  doctors  in  the  toons  hae  nurses  an'  a* 
kinds  o'  handy  apparatus/'  said  MacLure  to 
Drumsheugh  when  Bell  has  gone,  "but  you  an* 
me  'ill  need  tae  be  nurse  the  nicht,  an'  use  sic 
things  as  we  hev. 

"It  'ill  be  a  lang  nicht  and  anxious  wark,  but 
a'  wud  raither  hae  ye,  auld  freend,  wi'  me  than 
ony  man  in  the  Glen.  Ye're  no  feared  tae  gie  a 
hand.?" 

"Me  feared.?  No  likely.  Man,  Saunders  cam 
tae  me  a  haflin,  and  hes  been  on  Drumsheugh  for 
twenty  years,  an'  though  he  be  a  dour  chiel,  he's 
a  faithfu'  servant  as  ever  lived.  It's  waesome  tae 
see  him  lyin'  there  moaning  like  some  dumb 
animal  frae  mornin'  tae  nicht,  an'  no  able  tae 
answer  his  ain  wife  when  she  speaks. 

"  Div  ye  think,  Weelum,  he  hes  a  chance  ? " 

' '  That  he  hes,  at  ony  rate,  and  it  'ill  no  be  your 
blame  or  mine  if  he  hesna  mair." 

While  he  w^as  speaking,  MacLure  took  off  his 
coat  and  waistcoat  and  hung  them  on  the  back  oi 


A  FIGHT  WITH  DEA  TH.  233 

the  door.  Then  he  rolled  up  the  sleeves  of  his 
shirt  and  laid  bare  two  arms  that  were  nothing: 
but  bone  and  muscle. 

*'  It  gar'd  ma  very  blood  rin  faster  tae  the  end 
of  ma  fingers  juist  tae  look  at  him,"  Drumsheugh 
expatiated  afterwards  to  Hillocks,  '*  for  a'  saw 
noo  that  there  was  tae  be  a  stand-up  fecht 
atween  him  an'  deith  for  Saunders,  and  when  a' 
thocht  o'  Bell  an'  her  bairns,  a'  kent  wha  wud 
win. 

**  Aff  wi'  yir  coat,  Drumsheugh,"  said  MacLure  ; 
"ye  'ill  need  tae  bend  yir  back  the  nicht;  gither 
a'  the  pails  in  the  house  and  fill  them  at  the 
spring,  an'  a'U  come  doon  tae  help  ye  wi'  the 
carryin'." 

It  was  a  wonderful  ascent  up  the  steep  path- 
way from  the  spring  to  the  cottage  on  its  little 
knoll,  the  two  men  in  single  file,  bareheaded, 
silent,  solemn,  each  with  a  pail  of  water  in  either 
hand,  MacLure  limping  painfully  in  front,  Drum- 
sheugh blowing  behind ;  and  when  they  laid 
down  their  burden  in  the  sick  room,  where  the 
bits  of  furniture  had  been  put  to  a  side  and  a  large 
tub  held  the  centre,  Drumsheugh  looked  curiously 
at  the  doctor. 

"No,  a'm  no  daft ;  ye  needna  be  feared  ;  but 
ye're  tae  get  yir  first  lesson  in  medicine  the  nicht, 
an'  if  we  win  the  battle  ye  can  set  up  for  yersel 
in  the  Glen. 

"There's  twa  dangers— that  Saunders'  strength 


234         ^  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

fails,  an'  that  the  force  o'  the  fever  grows  ;  and 
we  have  juist  twa  weapons. 

"Yon  milk  on  the  drawers'  head  an*  the  bottle 
of  whisky  is  tae  keep  up  the  strength,  and  this 
cool  caller  water  is  tae  keep  doon  the  fever. 

"We  'ill  cast  oot  the  fever  by  the  virtue  o'  the 
earth  an'  the  water." 

"Div  ye  mean  tae  pit  Saunders  in  the  tub .?  " 

"Ye  hiv  it  noo,  Drumsheugh,  and  that's  hoo  a' 
need  yir  help." 

"Man,  Hillocks,''  Drumsheugh  used  to  moralize, 
as  often  as  he  remembered  that  critical  night,  "it 
wes  humblin'  tae  see  hoo  low  sickness  can  bring 
a  pooerfu'  man,  an'  ocht  tae  keep  us  frae  pride. 

"A  month  syne  there  wesna  a  stronger  man  in 
the  Glen  than  Saunders,  an'  noo  he  was  juist  a 
bundle  o'  skin  and  bone,  that  naither  saw  nor 
heard,  nor  moved  nor  felt,  that  kent  naethin'  that 
was  dune  tae  him. 

"  Hillocks,  a'  wudna  hae  wished  ony  man  tae 
hev  seen  Saunders — for  it  wuU  never  pass  frae 
before  ma  een  as  long  as  a'  live — but  a'  wish  a' 
the  Glen  hed  stude  by  MacLure  kneelin'  on  the 
floor  wi'  his  sleeves  up  tae  his  oxters  and  waitin' 
on  Saunders. 

"Yon  big  man  wes  as  pitfu'  an'  gentle  as  a 
wumman,  and  when  he  laid  the  puir  fellow  in  his 
bed  again,  he  happit  him  ower  as  a  mither  dis 
her  bairn." 

Thrice  it  was  done,  Drumsheugh  ever  bringing 


A  FIGHT  WITH  DEA  TH.  235 

up  colder  water  from  the  spring,  and  twice  Mac- 
Lure  was  silent ;  but  after  the  third  time  there 
was  a  gleam  in  his  eye. 

"We're  haudin'  oor  ain  ;  we're  no  bein'  mais- 
tered,  at  ony  rate ;  mair  a'  canna  say  for  three 
oors. 

*'  We  'ill  no  need  the  water  again,  Drumsheugh  ; 
gae  oot  and  tak  a  breath  o'  air ;  a'm  on  gaird 
masel." 

It  was  the  hour  before  daybreak,  and  Drum- 
sheugh wandered  through  fields  he  had  trodden 
since  childhood.  The  cattle  lay  sleeping  in  the 
pastures  :  their  shadowy  forms,  with  a  patch  of 
whiteness  here  and  there,  having  a  weird  sug- 
gestion of  death.  He  heard  the  burn  running 
over  the  stones  ;  fifty  years  ago  he  had  made  a 
dam  that  lasted  till  winter.  The  hooting  of  an 
owl  made  him  start  ;  one  had  frightened  him  as 
a  boy  so  that  he  ran  home  to  his  mother — she 
died  thirty  years  ago.  The  smell  of  ripe  corn 
filled  the  air  ;  it  would  soon  be  cut  and  garnered. 
He  could  see  the  dim  outlines  of  his  house,  all 
dark  and  cold  ;  no  one  he  loved  was  beneath  the 
roof.  The  lighted  window  in  Saunders'  cottage 
told  where  a  man  hung  between  life  and  death, 
but  love  was  in  that  home.  The  futility  of  life 
arose  before  this  lonely  man,  and  overcame  his 
heart  with  an  indescribable  sadness.  What  a 
vanity  was  all  human  labor,  what  a  mystery  all 
human  life  I 


236  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

But  while  he  stood,  a  subtle  change  came  over 
?he  night,  and  the  air  trembled  round  him  as  if 
one  had  whispered,  Drumsheugh  lifted  his  head 
and  looked  eastwards.  A  faint  gray  stole  over 
the  distant  horizon,  and  suddenly  a  cloud  red- 
dened before  his  eyes.  The  sun  was  not  in  sight, 
but  was  rising,  and  sending  forerunners  before 
his  face.  The  cattle  began  to  stir,  a  blackbird 
burst  into  song,  and  before  Drumsheugh  crossed 
the  threshold  of  Saunders'  house,  th(?  first  ray  of 
the  sun  had  broken  on  a  peak  of  the  Grampians. 

IMacLure  left  the  bedside,  and  as  the  light  of 
the  candle  fell  on  the  doctors  face,  Drumsheugh 
could  see  that  it  was  going  well  with  Saunders. 

"He's  nae  waur ;  an'  it's  half  six  noo  ;  it's 
ower  sune  tae  say  mair,  but  a'm  houpin'  for  the 
best.  Sit  doon  and  take  a  sleep,  for  ye're  need- 
in'  't,  Drumsheugh,  an'  man,  ye  hae  worked  for 
it." 

As  he  dozed  off,  the  last  thing  Drumsheugh 
saw  was  the  doctor  sitting  erect  in  his  chair,  a 
clenched  fist  resting  qn  the  bed,  and  his  eyes 
already  bright  with  the  vision  of  victory. 

He  awoke  with  a  start  to  find  the  room  flooded 
with  the  morning  sunshine,  and  every  trace  of 
last  night's  work  removed. 

The  doctor  was  bending  over  the  bed,  and 
speaking  to  Saunders. 

"It's  me,  Saunders,  Doctor  MacLure,  ye  ken  ; 
dinna  try  tae  speak  or  move  ;  juist  let  this  drap 


A  FIGHT  WITH  DEA  TH.  237 

milk  slip  ower — ye  'ill  be  needin'  yir  breakfast, 
lad — and  gang  tae  sleep  again." 

Five  minutes,  and  Saunders  had  fallen  into  a 
deep,  healthy  sleep,  all  tossing  and  moaning  come 
to  an  end.  Then  MacLure  stepped  softly  across 
the  floor,  picked  up  his  coat  and  waistcoat,  and 
went  out  at  the  door. 

Drumsheugh  arose  and  followed  him  v/ithout 
a  word.  They  passed  through  the  little  garden, 
sparkling,  with  dew,  and  beside  the  byre,  where 
Hawkie  rattled  her  chain,  impatient  for  Bell's 
coming,  and  by  Saunders'  little  strip  of  corn  i  ady 
for  the  scythe,  till  they  reached  an  op  n  ''eld. 
There  they  came  to  a  halt,  and  Doctor  MacL  re 
for  once  allowed  himself  to  go. 

His  coat  he  flung  east  and  his  waistcoat  west, 
as  far  as  he  could  hurl  them,  and  it  was  plain  he 
would  have  shouted  had  he  been  a  complete  mile 
from  Saunders'  room.  Any  less  distance  was  use- 
less for  adequate  expression.  He  struck  Drum- 
sheugh a  mighty  blow  that  well-nigh  levelled  that 
substantial  man  in  the  dust,  and  then  the  doctor 
of  Drumtochty  issued  his  bulletin. 

*' Saunders  wesna  tae  live  through  the  nicht, 
but  he's  livin'  this  meenut,  an'  like  to  live. 

"  He's  got  by  the  warst  clean  and  fair,  and  wi' 
him  that's  as  good  as  cure. 

*'  It  'ill  be  a  graund  waukenin'  for  Bell ;  she  'ill 
no  be  a  weedow  yet,  nor  the  bairnies  fatherless. 

* 'There's  nae  use  glowerin'  at  me,  Drumsheugh, 


238  A  DOCTOR   OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

for  a  body's  daft  af;  a  time,  an'  a'  canna  contain 
masel,.and  a'm  no  gaein'  tae  try." 

Then  it  dawned  upon  Drumsheugh  that  the 
doctor  was  attempting  the  Highland  fling. 

"  He's  ill  made  tae  begin  wi',"  Drumsheugh 
explained  in  the  kirkyard  next  Sabbath,  *'  and  ye 
ken  he's  been  terrible  mishannelled  by  accidents, 
sae  ye  may  think  what  like  it  was,  but,  as  sure 
as  deith,  o'  a'  the  Hielan'  flings  a'  ever  saw  yon 
wes  the  bonniest. 

"A'  hevna  shaken  ma  ain  legs  for  thirty  years, 
but  a'  confess  tae  a  turn  masel.  Ye  may  lauch 
an'  ye  like,  neeburs,  but  the  thocht  o'  Bell  an'  the 
news  that  wes  waitin'  her  got  the  better  o'  me." 

Drumtochty  did  not  laugh.  Drumtochty  looked 
as  if  it  could  have  done  quite  otherwise  for  joy. 

"A'  wud  hae  made  a  third  gin  a'  hed  been 
there,"  announced  Hillocks,  aggressively. 

"Come  on,  Drumsheugh,"  said  Jamie  Soutar, 
"  gie's  the  end  o't  ;  it  wes  a  michty  morning." 

* ' '  We're  twa  auld  fules,  *  says  MacLure  tae  me, 
and  he  gaithers  up  his  claithes.  *  It  wud  set  us 
better  tae  be  telling  Bell.' 

"  She  wes  sleepin'  on  the  top  o'  her  bed 
wrapped  in  a  plaid,  fair  worn  oot  w:'  three 
weeks'  nursin'  o'  Saunders,  but  at  the  first  touch 
she  was  oot  upon  the  floor. 

"  'Is  Saunders  deein',  doctor.? '  she  cries.  *Ye 
promised  tae  wauken  me  ;  dinna  tell  me  it's  a* 
ower.' 


A  FIGHT  WITH  DEATH  239 

**  *  There's  nae  deein'  aboot  him,  Bell  ;  yeVe  no 
tae  lose  yir  man  this  time,  sae  far  as  a'  can  see. 
Come  ben  an'  jidge  for  yersel.' 

"Bell  lookit  at  Saunders,  and  the  tears  of  joy 
fell  on  the  bed  like  rain. 

"  'The  shadow's  lifted,'  she  said  ;  'he's  come 
back  frae  the  mooth  o'  the  tomb. 

"  *A'  prayed  last  nicht  that  the  Lord  wud  leave 
Saunders  till  the  laddies  cud  dae  for  themselves, 
an'  thae  words  came  inta  ma  mind,  "  Weepi'Tg 
may  endure  for  a  nicht,  but  joy  cometh  in  the 
mornin'." 

***The  Lord  heard  ma  prayer,  and  joy  hes 
come  in  the  mornin','  an'  she  gripped  the  doctor's 
hand. 

"  *  Ye've  been  the  instrument,  Doctor  MacLure. 
Ye  wudna  gie  him  up,  and  ye  did  what  nae  ithcr 
cud  for  him,  an'  a've  ma  man  the  day,  and  the 
bairns  hae  their  father. ' 

''An'  afore  MacLure  kent  what  she  was  daein', 
Bell  k'fted  his  hand  to  her  lips  an'  kissed  it." 

*Tid  she,  though  "  "  cr'ed  Jami:.  '  Wha  wud 
hae  thocht  there  wes  ?is  muckle  spun!'  in  Bell  ?  " 

"MacLure,  of  coorse,  was  clean  scandalized," 
continued  Drumsheugh,  "an'  pooed  awa  his  hand 
as  if  it  hed  been  burned. 

"Nae  man  can  thole  that  kind  o'  fraikin',  and 
a'  never  heard  o'  sic  a  thing  in  the  parish,  but  we 
maun  excuse  Bell,  neeburs  ;  it  wes  an  occasion 
by  ordinal, "  and  Drumsheugh  made  Bell's  apol- 


e4<}         A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

ogy  to  Drumtochty  for  such  an  excess  of 
feeling. 

*'A'  see  naething  tae  excuse,"  insisted  Jamie, 
who  was  in  great  fettle  that  Sabbath  ;  **  the  doctor 
hes  never  been  burdened  wi'  fees,  and  a'm  judgin' 
he  coonted  a  wumman's  gratitude  that  he  saved 
frae  weedowhood  the  best  he  ever  got." 

''A'gaedup  tae  the  Manse  last  nicht,"  con- 
cluded Drumsheugh,  "and  telt  the  minister  hoo 
the  doctor  focht  aucht  oors  for  Saunders'  life,  -n' 
won,  and  ye  n  ver  saw  a  man  sae  carried.  He 
w  k-t  uj  nd  doon  the  room  a'  the  time,  and  every 
o  h  r  meenut  he  blew  his  nose  like  a  trumpet. 

"  *  I've  a  cold  in  my  head  to-night,  Drumsheugh,' 
8  ys  he  ;   *  never  mind  me.'  " 

* '  A've  hed  the  same  masel  in  sic  circumstances  ; 
they  come  on  sudden,"  said  Jamie. 

*' A'  wager  there  'ill  be  a  new  bit  in  the  laist 
prayer  the  day,  an'  somethin'  worth  hearin'." 

And  the  fathers  went  into  kirk  in  great  ex- 
pectation. 

"We  beseech  Thee  for  such  as  be  sick,  that 
Thy  hand  may  be  on  them  for  good,  and  that 
Thou  wouldst  restore  them  again  to  health  and 
strength,"  was  the  familiar  petition  of  every 
Sabbath. 

The  congregation  waited  in  a  silence  that  might 
be  heard,  and  were  not  disappointed  that  morn- 
ing, for  the  minister  continued  : 

"  Especially  we  tender  Thee  hearty  thanks  that 


A  FIGHT  WITH  DEA  TH  241 

Thou  didst  spare  Thy  servant  who  was  brought 
down  into  the  dust  of  death,  and  hast  given  him 
back  to  his  wife  and  children,  and  unto  that  end 
didst  wonderfully  bless  the  skill  of  him  who  goes 
out  and  in  amongst  us,  the  beloved  physician  of 
this  parish  and  adjacent  districts." 

"  Didna  a'  tell  ye,  neeburs?"  said  Jamie,  as 
they  stood  at  the  kirkyard  gate  before  dispersing  ; 
"there's  no  a  man  in  the  coonty  cud  hae  dune  it 
better.  *  Beloved  physician,' an'  his  'skill/  tae, 
an'  bringing  in  *  adjacent  districts ' ;  that's  Glen 
Urtach  ;  it  wes  handsome,  and  the  doctor  earned 
it,  ay,  every  word. 

''It's  an  awfu'  peety  he  didna  heer  yon  ;  but 
dear  knows  whar  he  is  the  day,  maist  likely 
up " 

Jamie  stopped  suddenly  at  the  sound  of  a 
horse's  feet,  and  there,  coming  down  the  avenue 
of  beech  trees  that  made  a  long  vista  from  the 
kirk  gate,  they  saw  the  doctor  and  Jess. 

One  thought  flashed  through  the  minds  of  the 
fathers  of  the    ommonwealth. 

It  ought  to  be  done  as  he  passed,  and  it  would 
be  done  if  it  were  not  Sabbath.  Of  course  it  was 
out  of  the  question  on  Sabbath. 

The  doctor  is  now  distinctly  visible,  riding 
after  his  fashion. 

There  was  never  such  a  chance,  if  it  were  only 
Saturday ;  and  each  man  reads  his  own  regret  in 
his  neighbor's  face. 
16 


242  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

The  doctor  is  nearing  them  rapidly ;  they  can 
imagine  the  shepherd's  tartan. 

Sabbath  or  no  Sabbath,  the  Glen  cannot  let 
him  pass  without  some  tribute  ot  their  pride. 

Jess  has  recognized  friends,  and  the  doctor  is 
drawing  rein. 

"It  hes  tae  be  dune,"  said  Jamie,  desperately, 
"say  what  ye  like."  Then  they  all  looked  to- 
wards him,  and  Ja    io  led. 

"  Hurrah,"  swingi"^  hi  oabbath  hat  in  the  air, 
"hurrah,"  and  O"  ce  more,  "hurr..h,"  Whinnie 
Knowe,  Drumsheug^,  and  Hilloc!:'  j  ir.ing  lustily , 
but  Tammas  Mitch :ll  ctv/iuj  \\'.  before  him,  for 
he  had  found  at  last  an  expression  for  his  feelings 
that  rendered  speech  u*^necesL..ry. 

It  was  a  solitary  cxpcri  nee  for  horse  and  rider 
and  Jess  bolted  without  delay.  But  the  sound 
followed  and  surrounded  them,  and  as  they  passed 
the  corner  of  the  kirkyard,  a  figure  waved  his 
college  cap  over  the  wall  and  gave  a  cheer  on  his 
own  account. 

"  God  bless  you,  doctor,  and  well  done." 

"If  it  isna  the  minister,"  cried  Drumsheugh, 
"in  his  goon  an'  bans' ;  tae  think  o'  that ;  but  a' 
respeck  him  for  it. " 

Then  Drumtochty  became  self-conscious,  and 
went  home  in  confusion  of  face  and  unbroken 
silence,  except  Jamie  Soutar,  who  faced  his 
neighbors  at  the  parting  of  the  ways  without 
shame. 


A  FIGHT  WITH  DEA  TH. 


243 


''A*  wild  dae  it  a*  ower  again  if  a'  hed  the 
chance  ;  he  got  naethin'  but  his  due." 

It  was  two  miles  before  Jess  composed  her 
mind,  and  the  doctor  and  she  could  discuss  it 
quietly  together. 

*' A'  can  hardly  believe  ma  ears,  Jess,  an'  the 
Sabbath  tae ;  their  verra  jidgment  hes  gane  frae 
the  fouk  o'  Drumtochty. 

"They've  heard  about  Saunders,  a'm  thiiikiii', 
wumman,  and  they're  pleased  we  brocht  hini 
roond ;  he's  fairly  on  the  mend,  ye  ken,  noo. 

'*  A'  never  expeckit  the  like  o'  this,  though,  and 
it  wes  juist  a  wee  thingie  mair  than  a'  cud  hae 
stude. 

**Ye  hev  yir  share  in't  tae,  lass;  we've  hed 
mony  a  hard  nicht  and  day  thegither,  an'  yon 
wes  oor  reward.  No  mony  men  in  this  warld 
'ill  ever  get  a  better,  for  it  cam  frao  the  hert  d 
honest  fouk." 


IV. 
THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY. 

Drumtochty  had  a  vivid  recollection  of  the 
winter  when  Dr.  MacLure  was  laid  up  for  two 
months  with  a  broken  leg,  and  the  Glen  was 
dependent  on  the  dubious  minstrations  of  the 
Kildrummie  doctor.  Mrs.  Macfaden  also  pre- 
tended to  recall  a  "whup"  of  some  kind  or  other 
he  had  in  the  fifties,  but  this  was  considered  to  be 
rather  a  pyrotechnic  display  of  Elspeth's  superior 
memory  than  a  serious  statement  of  fact.  Mac- 
Lure  could  not  have  ridden  through  the  snow  of 
forty  winters  without  suffering,  yet  no  one  ever 
heard  him  complain,  and  he  never  pled  illness  to 
any  messenger  by  night  or  day. 

"It  took  me,"  said  Jamie  Soutar  to  Milton 
afterwards,  "the  feck  o'  ten  meenuts  tae  howk 
him  an'  Jess  oot  ae  snawy  nicht  when  Drums 
turned  bad  sudden,  and  if  he  didna  try  to  excuse 
himsel  for  no  hearing  me  at  aince  wi'  some  story 
aboot  juist  comin'  infrae  Glen  Urtach,  and  no 
bein'  in  his  bed  for  the  last  two  nichts. 

"He  westhat  carefu'  o'  himsel  an'  lazy  that  if 
ithedna  been  for  the  siller,  a've  often  thocht,  Mil- 

244 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY.  245 

ton,  he  wud  never  hae  dune  a  handstroke  o'  wark 
in  the  Glen. 

'*  What  scunnered  me  wes  the  wy  the  bairns 
were  ta'en  in  \vi'  him.  I\Ian,  a've  seen  him  tak  a 
wee  laddie  on  his  knee  that  his  ain  mithcr  cudna 
quiet,  an'  lilt  '  Sing  a  song  o'  saxpence '  till  the 
bit  mannie  wud  be  lauchin'  like  a  gude  ane,  an' 
pooin'  the  doctor's  beard."' 

**  As  for  the  weemen,  he  fair  cuist  a  glamour 
ower  them  ;  they're  daein'  naethin'  noo  but  speak 
aboot  this  body  and  the  ither  he  cured,  an'  hoo 
he  aye  hed  a  couthy  word  for  sick  fouk.  Weemen 
hae  nae  discernment,  IMilton  ;  tae  hear  them  speak 
ye  wud  think  IMacLurehed  been  a  releegious  man 
like  yersel,  although,  as  ye  said,  he  wes  little  mair 
than  a  Gallio. 

**Bell  Baxter  was  haverin'  awa  in  the  shop  tae 
sic  an  extent  aboot  the  wy  MacLure  brocht  roond 
Saunders  when  he  hed  the  fever  that  a'  gied  oot 
at  the  door,  a'  wes  that  disgusted,  an'  a'm  telt 
when  Tammas  ^Mitchell  heard  the  news  in  the 
smiddy  he  wes  juist  on  the  greeting. 

"The  smith  said  that  he  was  thinkin'o' Annie's 
tribble,  but  ony  wy  a'  ca'  it  rael  bairnly.  It's  no 
like  Drumtochty  ;  ye're  setting  an  example,  Mil- 
ton, wi'  yir  composure.  But  a'  mind  ye  took  the 
doctor's  meesure  as  sune  as  ye  cam  intae  the 
pairish. " 

It  is  the  penalty  of  a  cynic  that  he  must  have 
some  relief  for  his  secret  grief,  and  Milton  began 


246  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

to  weary  of  life  in  Jamie's  hands  during  those 
days. 

Drumtochty  was  not  observant  in  the  matter 
of  health,  but  they  had  grown  sensitive  about 
Dr.  jNIacLure,  and  remarked  in  the  kirkyard  all 
summer  that  he  was  failing. 

"He  was  aye  spare,"  said  Hillocks,  '*  an'  he's 
been  sair  twisted  for  the  laist  twenty  year,  but  a' 
never  mind  him  booed  till  the  year.  An'  he's 
gaein'  intae  sma'  buke  (bulk),  an'  a'  dinna  like 
that,   neeburs. 

"  The  Glen  wudna  dae  weel  withoot  Weelum 
MacLure,  an'  he's  no  as  young  as  he  wes.  Man, 
Drumsheugh,  ye  micht  wile  him  aff  tae  the  saut 
water  atween  the  neeps  and  the  hairst.  He's 
been  workin'  forty  year  for  a  holiday,  an'  it's 
aboot  due." 

Drumsheusfh  was  full  of  tact,  and  met  MacLure 
quite  by  accident  on  the  road. 

*'  Saunders  'ill  no  need  me  till  the  shearing  be- 
gins," he  explained  to  the  doctor,  "  an' a'm  gae- 
in' tae  Brochty  for  a  turn  o'  the  hot  baths  ;  they're 
fine  for  the  rheumatics. 

"  Wull  ye  no  come  wi'  me  for  auld  lang  syne  .? 
it's  lonesome  for  a  solitary  man,  an'  it  wud  dae 
ye  gude." 

"Xa,  na,  Drumsheugh,"  said  MacLure,  who 
understood  perfectly,  ''aVe  dune  a' thae  years 
withoot  a  break,  an'  a'm  laith  (unwilling)  tae  be 
takin'  holidays  at  the  tail  end 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY.  247 

*'A'll  no  be  mony  months  wi'  ye  a'  thegitheC 
noo,  an'  a'm  wanting  tae  spend  a'  the  time  a'  hev 
in  the  Glen.  Ye  see  yersel  that  a'U  sune  be  get- 
ting ma  iangrest,  an'  a'U  no  deny  that  a'm  weary- 
in*  for  it." 

As  autumn  passed  into  winter,  the  Glen  noticed 
that  the  doctor's  hair  had  turned  gray,  and  that 
his  manner  had  lost  all  its  roughness.  A  feeling 
of  secret  gratitude  filled  their  hearts,  and  they 
united  in  a  conspiracy  of  attention.  Annie  Mitch- 
ell knitted  a  huge  comforter  in  red  and  white, 
which  the  doctor  wore  in  misery  for  one  whole 
day,  out  of  respect  for  Annie,  and  then  hung  in 
his  sitting-room  as  a  wall  ornament.  Hillocks 
used  to  intercept  him  with  hot  drinks,  and  one 
drifting  day  compelled  him  to  shelter  till  the 
storm  abated.  Flora  Campbell  brought  a  woi?- 
derful  compound  of  honey  and  whisky,  much 
tasted  in  Auchindarroch,  for  his  cough,  and  the 
mother  of  young  Burnbrae  filled  his  cupboard 
with  black  jam,  as  a  healing  measure.  Jamie 
Soutar  seemed  to  have  an  endless  series  of  jobs 
in  the  Doctor's  direction,  and  looked  in  *'juist 
tae  rest  himsel "  in  the  kitchen. 

MacLure  had  been  slowly  taking  in  the  situa- 
tion, and  at  last  he  unburdened  himself  one  night 
to  Jamie. 

''What  ails  the  fouk,  think  ye?  for  they're  aye 
lecturin'  me  noo  tae  tak  care  o'  the  weet  and  tae 
wrap  masel  up,  an'  there's  no  a  week  but  they're 


248         A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

sendin'  bit  presents  tae  the  hoose,  till  a'm  fair 
ashamed." 

"Oo,  a'U  explain  that  in  a  meenut,"  answered 
Jamie,  ''for  a'  ken  the  Glen  weel.  Ye  see  they're 
juist  tryin'  the  Scripture  plan  o'  heapin'  coals  o' 
fire  on  yir  head. 

"  Here  yeVe  been  negleckin'  the  foiik  in  seeck- 
ness  an'  lettin'  them  dee  afore  their  freends'  eyes 
withoot  a  fecht,  an'  refusin'  tae  gang  tae  a  puir 
wumman  in  her  tribble,  an'  frichtenin'  the  bairns 
— no,  a'm  no  dune — and  scourgin'  us  wi'  fees, 
and  livin'  yersel  on  the  fat  o'  the  land. 

"  Ye've  been  carryin'  on  this  trade  ever  sin  yir 
father  dee'd,  and  the  Glen  didna  notis.  But  ma 
word,  they've  fund  ye  oot  at  laist,  an'  they're 
ga'in'  tae  mak  ye  suffer  for  a'  yir  ill  usage.  Div 
ye  understand  noo.?"  said  Jamie,  savagely. 

For  a  while  MacLure  was  silent,  and  then  he 
only  said  : 

"It's  litUe  a'  did  for  the  puir  bodies  ;  but  ye 
hev  a  gude  hert,  Jamie,  a  rael  gude  hert.  '* 

It  was  a  bitter  December  Sabbath,  and  the 
fathers  were  settling  the  affairs  ot  ihe  parish  ankle- 
deep  in  snow,  when  MacLure's  old  housekeeper 
told  Drumsheugh  that  the  doctor  was  not  able  to 
rise,  and  wished  to  see  him  in  the  afternoon. 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  Hillocks,  shaking  his  head,  and 
that  day  Drumsheugh  omitted  four  pews  with  the 
ladle,  while  Jamie  was  so  vicious  on  the  way 
home  that  none  could  endure  him. 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY.  249 

Janet  had  lit  a  fire  in  tlie  unused  grate,  and 
hung  a  plaid  by  the  window  to  break  the  power 
of  the  cruel  north  wind,  but  the  bare  room  with 
its  half-a-dozen  bits  of  furniture  and  a  worn  strip 
of  carpet,  and  the  outlook  upon  the  snow  drifted 
up  to  the  second  pane  of  the  window  and  the 
black  firs  laden  with  their  icy  burden,  sent  a  chill 
to  Drumsheusfh  s  heart. 

The  Doctor  had  weakened  sadly,  and  could 
hardly  lift  his  head,  but  his  face  lit  up  at  the  sight 
of  his  visitor,  and  the  big  hand,  which  was  now 
quite  refined  \\\  its  whiteness,  came  out  from  the 
bed-clothes  with  the  old  warm  grip. 

''Come  in  by,  man,  and  sit  doon  ;  it's  an  awfu* 
day  tae  bring  ye  sae  far,  but  a'  kent  ye  wudna 
grudge  the  traivel. 

"A'  wesna  sure  till  last  nicht,  an'  then  a'  felt 
it  wudna  be  lang,  an'  a'  took  a  wearyin'  this 
mornin'  tae  see  ye. 

"We've  been  freends  sin'  we  were  laddies  at 
the  auld  schule  in  the  firs,  an'  a'  wud  like  ye  tae 
be  wi'  me  at  the  end.  Ye  'ill  stay  the  nicht,  Pai- 
trick,  for  auld  lang  syne." 

Drumsheugh  was  much  shaken,  and  the  sound 
of  the  Christian  name,  which  he  had  not  heard 
since  his  mother's  death,  gave  him  a  "grue" 
(shiver),  as  if  one  had  spoken  from  the  other 
world. 

"It's  maist  awfu' tae  hear  ye  spcakin'  nboot 
deein',  Weelum  ;  a'  canna  bear  it.     We  'ill  hac  the 


250  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

Muirtown  doctor  up,  an'  ye'  ill  be  aboot  again  in 
nae  time. 

**  Ye  hevna  ony  sair  tribble  ;  ye're  juist  trachled 
wi'  hard  wark  an'  needin'  a  rest.  Dinna  say  ye're 
gaen'tae  leave  us,  Weelum  ;  we  canna  dae  with- 
oot  ye  in  Drumtochty  ; "  and  Drumsheugh  looked 
wistfully  for  some  word  of  hope. 

**Na,  na,  Paitrick,  naething  can  be  dune,  an'  it's 
ower  late  tae  send  for  ony  doctor.  There's  a 
knock  that  canna  be  mista'en,  an'  a'  heard  it  last 
night.  A've  focht  deith  for  ither  fouk  mair  than 
forty  year,  but  ma  ain  time  hes  come  at  laist. 

''A've  nae  tribble  worth  mentionin' — a  bit  titch 
o'  bronchitis — an'  a'vehed  a  graund  constitution  ; 
but  a'm  fair  worn  oot,  Paitrick ;  that's  ma  com- 
plaint, an'  it's  past  curin'." 

Drumsheugh  went  over  to  the  fireplace,  and  for 
a  while  did  nothing  but  break  up  the  smouldering 
peats,  whose  smoke  powerfully  affected  his  nose 
and  eyes. 

**When  ye're  ready,  Paitrick,  there's  twa  or  three 
little  trokes  a'  wud  like  ye  tae  look  aifter,  an' 
a'll  tell  ye  aboot  them  as  lang's  ma  head's 
clear. 

"  A' didna  keep  bulks,  as  ye  ken,  for  a' aye  hed  a 
guid  memory,  so  naebody 'ill  be  harried  for  money 
aifter  ma  deith,  and  ye  'ill  hae  nae  accoonts  tae 
collect. 

"But  the  fouk  are  honest  in  Drumtochty,  and 
they  'ill  be  offerin'  ye  siller,  an'  a'll  gie  ye  ma  mind 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOUKNE Y.  251 

aboot  it.  Gin  it  be  a  puir  body,  tell  her  tae  kec]> 
it  and  get  a  bit  plaidie  \vi'  the  money,  and  she  'ill 
maybe  think  o'  her  doctor  at  a  time.  Gin  it  be  a 
bien  (well-to-do)  man,  tak  half  of  what  he  offers, 
for  a  Driimtochty  man  wud  scorn  to  be  mean  in 
sic  circumstances;  and  ifonybody  needs  a  doctor 
an'  canna  pay  for  him,  see  he's  no  left  tae  dee 
when  a'm  oot  o'  the  road." 

"  Nae  fear  o'  that  as  lang  as  a'm  livin',  Weclum  ; 
that  hundred's  still  tae  the  fore,  ye  ken,  an'  a'll  tak 
care  it's  weel  spent. 

"Yon  wes  the  best  job  we  ever  did  thegither, 
an'  dookin'  Saunders  ;  ye 'ill  no  forget  that  nicht, 
Weelum  " — a  gleam  came  into  the  doctor's  eyes 
—  "tae  say  naethin'  o'  the  Highlan'  fling.  ' 

The  remembrance  of  that  great  victory  came 
upon  Drumsheugh,  and  tried  his  fortitude. 

"What  'ill  become  o's  when  ye're  no  here  tae 
gie  a  handin  time  o'  need.?  we  'ill  tak  ill  wi'  a 
stranger  that  disna  ken  ane  o's  frae  anithcr." 

"It's  a'  for  the  best,  Paitrick,  an' ye  "ill  see 
that  in  a  whilie.  A've  kent  fine  that  ma  day  wes 
ower,  an'  that  ye  sud  hae  a  younger  man. 

"A'  did  what  a'  cud  tae  keep  up  wi'  the  new 
medicine,  but  a'  hed  little  time  for  readin',  an' 
nane  for  traivellin'. 

"A'm  the  last  o'  the  auld  schule,  an'  a'  ken  as 
weel  as  onybody  thet  a'  wcsna  sae  dainty  an' fine- 
mannered  as  the  town  doctors.  Ve  took  me  as 
a'  wes,  an'  naebody  ever  cuist  up  tae  me  that  a* 


252  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

wes  a  plain  man.  Na,na;  ye've  been  rael  kind 
an'  conseederate  a'  thae  years." 

"  Weelum,  gin  ye  cairry  on  sic  nonsense  ony 
langer,"  interrupted  Drumsheugh,  huskily,  *'a'll 
leave  the  hoose  ;  a'  canna  stand  it." 

**  It's  the  truth,  Paitrick,  but  we  'ill  gae  on  wi* 
cor  wark,  for  a'm  faillin'  fast. 

"Gie  Janet  ony  sticks  of  furniture  she  needs 
tae  furnish  a  hoose,  and  sell  a'  thing  else  tae  pay 
the  wricht  (undertaker)  an'  bedrel  (gravediggcr). 
If  the  new  doctor  be  a  young  laddie  and  no 
verra  rich,  ye  micht  let  him  hae  the  bulks  an* 
instruments  ;  it  'ill  aye  be  a  help. 

"  But  a' wudna  like  ye  tae  sell  Jess,  for  she's 
been  a  faithfu'  servant,  an'  a  freend  tae.  There's  a 
note  or  twa  in  that  drawer  a'  savit,  an'  if  ye  kent 
ony  man  that  wud  gie  her  a  bit  o' grass  and  a  sta' 
in  his  stable  till  she  followed  her  maister — " 

"Confoond  ye,  Weelum,"  broke  out  Drum- 
sheugh  ;  "  it's  doonricht  cruel  o'  ye  to  speak  likv 
this  tae  me.  Whar  wud  Jess  gang  but  tae  Drum- 
sheugh  .?  she  'ill  hae  her  run  o'  heck  an'  manger 
sae  lang  as  she  lives  ;  the  Glen  wudna  like  tae  see 
anither  man  on  Jess,  and  nae  man  'ill  ever  touch 
the  auld  mare. " 

*'  Dinna  mind  me,  Paitrick,  for  a'  expeckit  this  ; 
but  ye  ken  we're  no  verra  gleg  wi'  oor  tongues  in 
Drumtochty,  an'  dinna  tell  a'  that's  in  oor  hearts. 

"Weel,  that's  a' that  a'mind,  an'  the  rest  a' leave 
tae  yersel.   A've  neither  kith  nor  kin  tae  bury  me, 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY.  253 

sae  you  an'  the  neeburs  'ill  need  tae  lat  me  doon  ; 
but  gin  Tammas  ]\Iitchell  or  Saunders  be  stannin' 
near  and  lookin'  as  they  wud  like  a  cord,  gie't  tae 
them,  Paitrick.  They're  baith  dour  chiels,  and 
haena  muckle  tae  say,  but  Tammas  hes  a  graund 
hert,  and  there*s  waur  fouk  in  the  Glen  than 
Saunders. 

"A'm  gettin'  drowsy,  an*  all  no  be  able  tae 
follow  ye  sun e,  a'  doot ;  wud  ye  read  a  bit  tae  me 
afore  a'  fa'  ower  ? 

'*  Ye'ill  find  ma  mither's  Bible  on  the  drawers' 
heid,  but  ye  'ill  need  tae  come  close  tae  the  bed, 
for  a'm  no  hearin'  or  seein*  sae  weel  as  a'  was 
when  ye  cam." 

Drumsheugh  put  on  his  spectacles  and  searched 
for  a  comfortable  Scripture,  while  the  light  of  the 
lamp  fell  on  his  shaking  hands  and  the  doctor's 
face,  where  the  shadow  was  now  settling. 

**  Ma  mither  aye  wan  tit  this  read  tae  her  when 
she  wes  sober"  (weak),  and  Drumsheugh  began, 
*'In  My  Father's  house  are  many  mansions," 
but  MacLure  stopped  him. 

"  It's  a  bonnie  word,  an'  yir  mif.her  wes  a  sanct ; 
but  it's  no  for  the  like  o'  me.  It's  ower  gude ;  a' 
daurna  tak  it. 

**Shi:t  the  bulk  an*  let  it  open  itsel,  an'  ye  'ill 
get  a  bit  a've  been  readin*  every  nicht  the  laist 
month." 

Then  Drumsheugh  found  the  Parable  wherein  the 
Master  tells  us  what  God  thinks  of  a  Pharisee  and 


254         ^  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

of  a  penitent  sinner,  till  he  came  to  the  words: 
'•'And  the  publican,  standing  afar  off,  would  not 
lift  up  so  much  as  his  eyes  to  heaven,  but  smote 
upon  his  breast,  saying,  God  be  merciful  to  me 
a  sinner." 

"That  micht  hae  been  written  for  me,  Paitrick, 
or  ony  ither  auld  sinner  that  hes  feenished  his  life, 
an'  hes  naething  tae  say  for  himsel. 

"  It  wesna  easy  f  r  me  tae  get  tae  kirk,  but  a* 
cud  hae  managed  wi'  a  stretch,  an'  a'  used  langidge 
a'  sudna,  an'  a'  micht  hae  been  gentler,  and  no 
been  so  short  in  the  temper.     A'  see't  a'  noo. 

''It's  ower  late  tae  mend,  but  ye 'ill  maybe 
juist  say  to  the  fouk  that  I  wes  sorry,  an'  a'm 
houpin'  that  the  Almichty  'ill  hae  mercy  on  me. 

"Cud  ye  .   .   .   pit  up  a  bit   prayer,   Paitrick?' 

"A'haena  the  words,"  said  Drumsheugh  in 
great  distress ;  **wud  ye  like's  tae  send  for  the 
minister  ?  " 

"It's  no  the  time  for  that  noo,  an'  a'  wud 
rather  hae  yersel — ^juist  what's  in  yir  he^t, 
Paitrick  :  the  Almichty  'ill  ken  the  lave  (rest) 
Himsel'." 

So  Drumsheugh  knelt  and  prayed  with  many 
pauses. 

"  Almichty  God  .  .  .  dinnabehard  on  Weelum 
IMacLure,  for  he's  no  been  ha!  d  wi'  onybody  in 
Drumtochty.  ...  Be  kind  tae  him  as  he's  been 
tae  us  a'  for  forty  year.  .  .  .  We're,  a'  sinpers 
afore   Thee.  .  .  .  Forgive  him  what   he's   dune 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY,  255 

wrang",  an'  dinna  cuist  it  up  tae  him.  .  .  .  Mind 
the  fouk  he's  helpit  .  .  .  the  weemen  an' 
bairnies  .  .  .  an'  gie  him  a  welcome  hame,  for 
he's  sair  needin't  after  a'  his  wark.   .   .   .   Amen. " 

** Thank  ye,  Paitrick,  and  gude  nicht  tae  ye. 
Ma  ain  true  freend,  gie's  yir  hand,  for  a'U  maybe 
no  ken  yc  again, 

*'Noo  a'U  say  ma  mither's  prayer  and  hae 
a  sleep,  but  ye  'ill  no  leave  me  till  a'  is  ower." 

Then  he  repeated  as  he  had  done  every  night 
of  his  life  : 

"  This  night  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep, 
And  if  I  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take." 

He  was  sleeping  quietly  when  the  wind  drove 
the  snow  against  the  window  with  a  sudden 
*' swish,"  and  he  instantly  awoke,  so  to  say,  ia 
his  sleep.     Some  one  needed  him. 

"Areyefrae  Glen  Urtach?"  and  an  unheard 
voice  seemed  to  have  answered  him. 

"Worse  is  she,  an'  sufferin' awfu' ;  that's  no 
lichtsome ;  ye  did  richt  tae  come. 

''The  front  door's  drifted  up  ;  gang  roond  tae 
the  back,  an'  ye  'ill  get  intae  the  kitchen  ;  a"ll  be 
ready  in  a  meenut. 

"  Gie's  a  hand  wi'  the  lantern  when  a'm  said- 
dling  Jess,  an'  ye  needna  come  on  till  daylicht; 
a'  ken  the  road. " 


256         A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

Then  he  was  away  in  his  sleep  on  some 
errand  of  mercy,  and  struggling  through  the 
storm. 

"  It's  a  coorse  nicht,  Jess,  an'  heavy  traivellin' ; 
can  ye  see  afore  ye,  lass  ?  for  a'm  clean  confused 
wi'  the  snaw  ;  bide  a  wee  till  a'  find  the  diveesion 
o'  the  roads  ;  it's  aboot  here  back  or  forrit. 

"Steady,  lass,  steady,  dinna  plunge;  it's  a 
drift  we're  in,  but  ye're  nosinkin'  ;  ...  up  noo  ; 
,  .   .   there  ye  are  on  the  road  again. 

*'Eh,  it's  deep  the  nicht,  an'  hard  on  us  baith, 
but  there's  a  puirwumman  michtdee  if  we  dinna 
warstle  through  ;  .  .  .  that's  it ;  ye  ken  fine  what 
a'm  saying. 

"We'illhae  tae  leave  the  road  here,  an'  tak 
tae  the  muir.  Sandie  'ill  no  can  leave  the  wife 
alane  tae  meet  us  ;  .  .  .  feci  for  yersel,  lass,  and 
keep  oot  o'  the  holes. 

"  Yon's  the  hoose  black  in  the  snaw.  Sandie  ! 
man,  ye  friclitened  us  ;  a'  didna  see  ye  ahint  the 
dyke  ;  hoo's  the  wife  ?  " 

After  a  while  he  began  again  : 

"Ye're  fair  dune,  Jess,  and  so  a*  am  masel  ; 
we're  baith  gettin'  auld,  an'  dinna  tak  sae  weel 
wi'  the  nicht  wark. 

**We 'ill  sune  be  hame  noo  ;  this  is  the  black 
%vood,  an'  :'t's  no  lang  aifter  that ;  we're  ready  for 
cor  beds,  Jess  ;  .  .  .  ay,  ye  like  a  clap  at  a  time ; 
mony  a  mile  we've  gaed  thegither. 

*' Yon's  the  licht  in  the  kitchen  window  ;  nae 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY. 


=  57 


wonder  ye're  nickering  (neighing)  ;  .  .  .  it's 
been  a  stiff  journey  ;  am  tired,  lass  .  .  .  a'm 
tired  tae  deith,"  and  the  voice  died  into  silence. 

Drumsheugh  held  his  friend's  hand,  which  now 
and  again  tightened  in  his,  and  as  he  watched,  a 
change  came  over  the  face  on  the  pillow  beside 
him.  The  lines  of  weariness  disappeared,  as  if 
God's  hand  had  passed  over  it ;  and  peace  began 
to  gather  round  the  closed  eyes. 

The  doctor  has  forgotten  the  toil  of  later  years, 
and  has  gone  back  to  his  boyhood. 

"  The  Lord's  my  Shepherd,  I'll  not  want," 

he  repeated,  till  he  came  to  the  last  verse,  and 
then  he  hesitated. 

"  Goodness  and  mercy  all  my  life 
Shall  surely  follow  me. 

*' Follow  me  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  what's 
next?  Mither  said  I  wes  tae  haed  ready  when 
she  cam.  « 

*'  *A'll  come  afore  ye  gang  tae  sleep,  Wullie, 
but  ye  'ill  no  get  yir  kiss  unless  ye  can  feenish 
the  psalm.* 

*-And  ...  in  God's  house  ...  for  evermore 
my  .  .  .  hoo  dis  it  rin .?  a'  canna  mind  the  next 
word  ...   my,  my 

"It's  ower  dark  noo  tae  read  it,  an'  mither  'ill 
sune  be  comin'. '' 
17 


258  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

Drumsheugh,  in  an    agony,  whispered  into  his 
ear,   '•  'My  dwelling-place,'  Weelum." 
"That's  it,  that's  it  a'  noo  ;  wha  said  it? 

"  And  in  God's  house  for  evermore 
My  dwelling-place  shall  be. 

'*  A'm  ready  noo,  an'  a'U  get  ma  kiss  when 
mither  comes  ;  a'  wish  she  wud  come,  for  a'm 
tired  an   wantin'  tae  sleep. 

"Yon's  her  step  .  .  .  an' she's  carryin' a  licht 
in  her  hand  ;    '  see  it  through  the  door. 

"  iMither  !  a'ken  ye  wudna  forget  yir  laddie, 
for  ye  promised  tae  come,  an'  a've  feenished  ma 
psalm. 

"  And  in  God's  house  for  evermore 
My  dwelling-place  shall  be. 

"  Gie  me  the  kiss,  mither,  for  a've  been  waitin' 
for  ye,  an'  a'll  sune  be  asleep." 

The  gray  morning  light  fell  on  Drumsheugh, 
still  holding  his  friend's  cold  hand,  and  staring  at 
a  hearth  where  the  fire  had  died  down  into  white 
ashes  ;  but  the  peace  on  the  doctor's  face  was  of 
one  who  rested  from  his  labors. 


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